


Crowns of Flowers, Crowns of Queens

by VesperNights



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Attempted Rape, F/M, Guilt, Justice, Rape Trial, Self-Hatred, Sexual Violence, Trauma, Victim Blaming, biased media reporting, discussions of rape, discussions of scars, media spectacle, victim testimony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 58,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperNights/pseuds/VesperNights
Summary: Beginning immediately after stealing Apollo's lyre, Persephone is attacked again. In the aftermath, she begins her journey towards justice; a journey of fortitude in the face of unpunished crimes, of love in the face of duty, and of strength when a queen calls for retribution.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 207
Kudos: 539
Collections: Lore Olympus





	1. Palms

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic, thanks for reading! :) 
> 
> Trigger warning: There is physical and sexual violence in this chapter.

Persephone watched from her window as Hades drove away. Her stomach was a knotted tangle of emotions that she couldn’t even begin to unwrap. This week felt like the longest of her existence, with her heart working overtime just to keep her going. Everything felt pretty overwhelming at the moment, and the pressure that had always pushed down on her her entire life just seemed to be getting heavier. School was busy, her internship was intense, and she still didn’t know what to do about pretty much every single aspect of her life.

The appearance of Apollo shook her. She became paralyzed in his presence, and filled with an electric rage. She was thankful that Hades had been there to get rid of Apollo for her, but she wished that she could have done it herself. She didn’t want to be paralyzed anymore. 

She looked at the stolen lyre clutched in her hands like she just realized it was there. She couldn’t believe she’d actually stolen it—what had come over her? It just felt right, it felt _fair_ , to take something so precious from him. But now that she had it, she wasn’t really sure what to do with it. Destroy it? Send it bent and broken to him with a note that _this_ is how she feels about him? She was too tired and confused to think through it so, for now, she stashed it away in an open box of books that she still had to unpack. She tossed a blanket over it, and thought no more of it.

Persephone went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and get ready for bed, looking forward to finally getting some sleep. Her head ached, and she stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to remember if she still looked the same as she had a week ago, before all of this happened. Her hair had grown long and tangled in Hades’ car, as Apollo banged on the window, trying to force Persephone to talk to him. She looked unruly, and the extra weight of it did nothing to help her headache. She picked up the scissors she kept on her vanity for just this very thing, and began to chop away at it, thinking about what Eros had said when he learned what Apollo had done. 

_Persephone...that’s rape._

It was hard to see the pain in his eyes, his hand covering his mouth, tears falling. Seeing her grief reflected in the face of her friend somehow made it all worse—it forced her to confront the reality that what happened to her truly was awful.

Eros told her she should tell people, tell a lot of people. Would that help her stand up to Apollo, if people knew? She thought about Hades finding out. Would he ever be able to look at her again? (She could hardly look at herself; she felt such shame.) She felt a fluttering in her chest when she thought of the way Hades looked at her...like he admired her. They were friends, she knew that. She couldn’t seem to be able to stop herself from flirting with him. And it seemed that he flirted right back though, to be fair, she had very little experience in the matter. Was it a crush, when you were drawn to the other person like a magnet, constantly sticking together in small ways—a hand on an arm, a head on a shoulder, fingers accidentally finding their way into hands? It all felt so natural, so casual. It felt wrong to _not_ be touching. But it wasn’t right that they were, right? 

What _was_ this between them? She was supposed to be a sacred virgin for all eternity, was going to school on the scholarship of an organization that expected her to be a member very, very soon. She had duties and expectations and people she couldn't disappoint. And Hades had a partner. He was in a _relationship_. Why had he lied to her about that, that night on the phone? Eros had told her that Hades and Minthe were a dumpster fire, but surely she should be more respectful of that relationship, even if it seemed that Hades wasn’t. 

As confused as she was, one thing was for certain: she couldn’t ignore her feelings anymore—they overpowered her. Hades was nothing like the way others saw him. He wasn’t some fearsome ruler of the Underworld. He wasn’t the U _nseen One_ . He was gentle and kind. He was a dork who smelled like a forest fire in winter and wasn’t nearly as good at chess as he thought he was. He made stupid puns and had a ridiculous amount of cars and an _indoor pool_. But he had dimples and eyes that burned a soft red sometimes when he said her name. He had an inconvenient sexiness about him in his tailored business suits and pointed shoes as he walked the halls of the corporate Underworld that he ran—he was her boss, she shouldn’t be noticing the way his pants fit him. 

But she noticed, too, that he also had a sort of melancholy inside of him. She didn’t know where it came from or how deep it ran, but it made her want to comfort him, to wrap vines of pomelia flowers around any broken pieces of his heart and stitch them together again. 

So, no. She couldn’t tell anyone. She couldn’t risk losing Hades or losing Artemis, for that matter. Artemis would probably hate her if she got her brother in trouble. And Artemis had been so kind to her, sticking her neck out for her, letting her live in her home when she didn’t even know a thing about her. And the thought of her mother hearing the truth....The truth would certainly confirm everything her mother had always believed: Persephone was a child who couldn’t be trusted to look out for herself. Leave her alone, and the very worst will happen. Her nightmares of greenhouses without doors would become reality, her overbearing mother given all the ammunition she needed to lock her away forever.

Persephone undressed and slipped into a nightgown. She padded to her bed, but stopped to gaze out the window. Apollo’s car was parked across the street. Persephone couldn’t take this; she had to move out. Apollo was simply in her presence too often for Persephone to ever feel safe. She rarely felt safe even when she was away from him. She climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She thought about how Hades had offered to help her if she felt in danger. Hades. She felt safe with Hades. Her fingers lightly brushed her lips as she thought about how she tenderly kissed his cheek earlier that evening, her hand on his chest. Seeing Hades was always the best part of her day. She opened her nightstand drawer and pulled out his business card. 

_Hit the ground twice to summon me._

She propped it up on her nightstand—it comforted her to see his name. She gazed at it until her eyes were too heavy to keep open, and she fell into a troubled sleep. 

***

Persephone dreamt she was trapped in a greenhouse again. She wasn’t surprised to be back here, and once again she spun around, looking for doors but expecting none. From behind her, she heard the creak of a hinge. Her head whipped towards the sound. An open door! But there was nothing beyond but a black void. She’d never been afraid of the dark, but she didn’t want to go near it; there was something ominous about its utter darkness. If this was her only way out, she would rather stay here, where it was safe. She wished the door would close. She wished she didn’t feel frozen to the spot—she could close the door herself if she wasn’t so afraid. She heard footsteps coming from the darkness...coming through the door.

Her eyes flew open. She had been roused awake by a whisper in the pitch darkness of her room. She felt a weight on her bed, heard it creaking. Someone was sitting on the edge of it.

“Who’s there?” She wanted to scream it and rise into the air and fly from the room in a terrible fury, her hair whipping behind her, slapping away grabbing hands. But it came out weak, almost inaudible. 

But she knew who it was. She smelled him. Her stomach turned. Yellow eyes were glowing in front of her, and as her own eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw his outline: Apollo.

Quickly, she sat up. 

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was much more forceful. With her bed pushed up against the wall to her right, Apollo’s body was blocking her ability to get to the door, or even get out of the bed at all. His weight on her comforter pulled it tight to her legs, trapping her like a vice. She heard her heart pounding in her ears. 

“Like I said, I had something special planned for us tonight,” he said softly. “If you had gotten my messages you would have known.” He looked disappointed and Persephone eyed him warily. He took a deep breath.

“But that’s alright,” he continued, “we’re together now.” He leaned forward to kiss her. 

“No!” she shouted and tried to pull herself out of her covers and lurch from the bed. Apollo grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down onto her back so forcefully, she heard the springs squeak, and her head hit the pillow with a loud _flumph_. 

“Oh, you want to play rough?” Apollo chuckled. 

“No,” Persephone said, “I don’t want this at all. You need to leave. Now.” 

Apollo’s lips curled upward in a leer that could never be called a smile. “Don’t worry, Percie, Artemis isn’t home, we won’t have to keep our voices down.” 

“Oh good,” Persephone shouted sardonically, her hands pushing on Apollo's shoulders, trying to force him off the bed. “So I can YELL at you to get the hell off of me!” 

Apollo’s composure faltered—she was rejecting him. His face turned frighteningly dark, his eyes flashing their yellow glow, his pupils slit like a snake. 

He took a breath, and his pupils expanded again. “I know you want this,” he said confidently. “Every goddess wants this. They’d be over the moon to get it, so stop squirming and let me give it to you. No more teasing.” He tucked a strand of her growing hair behind her ear as she yanked back away from him. Softly he said, “You’re lucky, you know? That I want you? You’re young and fragile, so I know you’re overwhelmed. I am the grand Sun God, after all, which I know can be intimidating. But I can make you great.” 

And with that, he put his hand on her upper thigh, over the covers. “No!” Persephone screamed. The evil glow was back in his eye, and he reacted to her dissent by gripping her left wrist painfully, bruising it. “Stop it! Please!” she cried. But he began forcefully to pull down her covers and push up her nightgown.

Persephone fought him, thrashing and shouting and begging him to leave, to stop, to get his hands off of her. Red thorny vines sprung from her hair, and she clawed her way out of bed, her nails and the vines leaving scratch marks on Apollo’s face, neck, and forearm. 

“You fucking BRAT!” he growled, as he grabbed her arm, spun her around, and slapped her, hard, across her face. The blow was deafening, and Persephone fell forward onto her stomach, the carpet rough on her stinging cheek. With her ears ringing, she quickly began to crawl towards the door, but Apollo stepped in front of her. He grabbed her hair and yanked it back. “Stop moving,” he said. She tried to pry his hands from her scalp but he dug them in and pulled harder.

“I said,” he breathed in her ear, “ _stop moving.”_

Persephone didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to get away. No one could hear her shouts for help, she couldn’t overpower him, and now she was very, _very_ scared. Apollo seemed to be cycling from calm to deranged to confident to aggressive. It was alarming. 

“Apollo,” she said, surprised to find her voice did not quaver, “ _Let me go.”_

Apollo smiled at her. “Look, I know you’re kind of shy, but -”

“No,” Persephone interrupted, her voice stronger. “I said _let me go_ and _get out of here._ I don’t want this. I don’t want _you_.”

It seemed, for an instant, that Persephone’s words had finally gotten through to him. His grip on her lessened the slightest bit.

But then his eyes burned that sickening yellow color and he said simply, “Of course you do.” And with that, he pushed her to the floor. 

“No, no, no!” Persephone shouted. Tears sprang to her eyes, her heart beating painfully in her chest. She kept trying to flip her body around, off of her stomach, but his hold on her was too tight, she couldn’t move. He put a hand around her neck and squeezed, pushing her face into the carpet. 

She choked as she protested as hard as she could. She tried to control her powers, summon something, anything, but nothing happened. She had no control over them. Why didn’t she have control over them? Why couldn’t she fight him? Why wasn’t she stronger? Tears streamed down her face.

She tried to scream, but she couldn’t breath. He had taken her unruly hair and wrapped it around her neck, and she clawed at it. The room blurred. Is this what the mortals felt, before they died? This fear? This panic? This pain? As she felt Apollo’s hand grip her hair harder and pull even tighter around her neck, his hot breath filled her ear as he soothed into it, “Shhhh, baby, shhh, it’s okay.” She had never heard a more disturbing sound in her entire life than his whisper. Her hands dropped from her neck, where she had tried and failed to stop the strangling tightness. She was succumbing to blackness, losing consciousness, but for just the smallest fraction of a moment, her heard cleared. Using every ounce of strength she had left, she lifted her hands and slammed her palms down twice on the bedroom floor.

***

It was practically instantaneous. A terrible rumbling filled the room, blue fire sprung up everywhere and the ground opened up. Then her hair was loosed from around her neck as Apollo flew backwards, hitting the wall so hard that it cracked. 

She gasped for air. Standing above her was Hades, his features twisted into a grotesque fury unlike anything she had seen before. He looked huge, and he glowed like a celestial being, his skin a dark blue, his eyes mortal-blood red. Behind him stood Cerberus, grown to his full height, all three heads growling, barking, drooling; all six of his red, unblinking eyes sheer murder as he stepped in front of Persephone, positioning his body protectively over hers. He barely fit in the room, his size taking up so much space. Smoke rose from his nose, as though the very fires of damnation burned from within him.

Hades’ hand was around Apollo’s throat as he lifted him into the air. Apollo’s legs kicked and his hands tore at his neck. Coils of burning ropes shot out of Hades’ sleeves and snaked their way around Apollo’s wrists, ankles, midsection, and forehead. He screamed in pain, but Hades flicked his hand in response and the coils tightened. The room was freezing, and filled with a bluish glow and a heavy mist.

Hades muttered something in another language, an ancient one Persephone didn’t recognize, and snapped his fingers. Suddenly Hecate was there, having materialized behind Persephone. “Hades, what—“ She stopped short when she saw the scene before her. Persephone on the ground gasping for air, her hair thorny vines, bruising on her neck, a deep maroon hand print on one side of her pink face. 

Hecate’s entire body tensed and her eyes narrowed as she looked to Apollo.

Only then, at Hecate’s appearance, did Hades turn his back on Apollo and look directly into Persephone’s eyes. She had tried to sit up but had only managed to turn onto her back.

“Hades...” she moaned. “Please, help me.” He reached her in two strides across the room, his features returning to normal, the swirling galaxies on his skin dissipating. Hesitantly, he bent down by her side. 

“Persephone,” he breathed. His eyes weren’t red anymore, but burned nevertheless. They were tender and scared. His hands hovered over her, unsure how touch her, if at all. Weakly, she raised her arms to him, and he gently, gently lifted her into his. To Hecate he said, “Call Zeus. Get him here. Don’t let this piece of shit out of your sight. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Hecate gave a curt nod, pulling out a phone. Persephone didn’t see what happened next, because a moment later, she was in the Underworld, Hades cradling her as they dropped to the city below, Cerberus on the ground, running in pace with them.


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades rescued Persephone from Apollo’s brutal attack, bringing her to the Underworld to keep her safe. 
> 
> “I heard your summons,” Hades said into the silence. “I felt it. When someone summons me, it’s not just a call, but a...pull.” He put a hand to the center of his chest. “With you, it was like a punch to my chest. My heart slammed twice, so hard. I felt...agony, your agony.” He paused again, his features twisted in distress. “Persephone, why was Apollo in your room? Why was he attacking you?”

As they fell to the Underworld, Hades held her gently, but assuredly. She could feel his heart thumping through his shirt. Her hands were gripped tightly to him, and her jaw clenched. She buried her head into his neck and inhaled his clean scent. He held her tighter. 

She had zoned out, lost in her own head. She felt groggy—her surroundings coming to her slowly, like a delayed reaction. A window. A dark night sky. Books. A fireplace. When her eyes focused, she saw Hades kneeling in front of her, concern knitting his brows.

“Persephone?” His hands gently clutched her shoulders. How long had he been saying her name? 

“Hades?” she responded, mildly surprised. She was on a couch. They were in Hades’ home.

“Persephone...” He looked so worried. She reached her hand out and cupped his face in her palm. “You answered,” she whispered. “You called,” he whispered back. He looked pained as he brushed his fingers over her stinging cheek. 

“You’re shivering,” Hades said. Persephone realized that she was. Her entire body shook violently and her teeth chattered. Hades took off his coat and draped it over Persephone’s shoulders. Then he grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her. “Lay back, sweetness,” he said softly, and she allowed herself to be lowered onto a pillow. 

“Try to get some rest. I have to make some phone calls.” He stood to go, but she grabbed his hand, stopping him short. 

He crouched down beside her, and brushed her hair out of her face with his fingers. “I promise you I will be right in the other room, and back before you even know I’m gone. You’re safe here, no one can get in. Cerberus will stay with you.” 

Cerberus, returned to his normal size and one head only, jumped up into Persephone’s lap, licked her face once, and resumed his guard dog position. Hades squeezed her hand and left the room. Inside, Persephone started to panic.

Cerberus sensed this and whined, gently licking her hand. She found his warmth and weight a comfort. She drew in a ragged breath. Her throat hurt, her face stung, her neck ached. She pulled Hades’ blankets up around her, so that she was filled with the scent of him, and noticed the deep maroon bruise on her wrist where Apollo had grabbed her.

She could hear Hades’ voice softly in the other room but couldn’t make out what he was saying. She didn’t want to know. She couldn’t think about any of it right now. Catatonic, she drifted off to sleep. 

***

She awoke restless, as though she hadn’t slept at all; perhaps she hadn’t. Her eyes shot open at the sound of a creak in a floor board. It was just Hades, who was sitting in an arm chair across from her. He looked bashful. “I’m so sorry if I woke you,” he said. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I don’t think I was really even asleep.” 

Her voice was hoarse and low—how badly had her vocal chords been damaged in the assault? Assault. It was assault. She swallowed painfully. 

She didn’t make any effort to sit up. Her whole body ached, but at least her uncontrollable shivering seemed to have stopped. Hades had lit a fire, and Cerberus was standing in front of her, no longer in her lap. But he had not left her for a moment. 

“I’m brewing you some tea now, that should help your throat,” Hades said, gesturing towards his kitchen. Persephone could hardly believe it was less than a week ago when she’d sat in there with him, drinking his coffee, wrapped in the fur coat he’d given her. 

She knew what was coming next. 

“Kore...” Hades hesitated. “Kore, what...what happened?” 

Persephone opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“I heard your summons,” Hades said into the silence. “I felt it. When someone summons me, it’s not just a call, but a...pull.” He put a hand to the center of his chest. “With you, it was like a punch to my chest. My heart slammed twice, so hard. I felt...agony, _your_ agony.” He paused again, his features twisted in distress. “Persephone, why was Apollo in your room? Do you know why was he attacking you?”

“Hades, I…” She didn’t know how to tell him. She didn’t know how to say any of it out loud. Shame overwhelmed her, and she felt tears pricking at her eyes. She rolled over so her back was to Hades, and pulled the covers up over her head. She stuffed her fist in her mouth to hide her sob. He must suspect. How could he not? What would he think of her if she told him? Cerberus whined. 

She heard Hades kneel down by her side. “Persephone...Kore...” His hand gently touched her shoulder. “Kore, look at me.” His voice was soft, soothing. But she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t look at him. 

“Kore, please.” Finally, she turned back around to face him, her muscles constricting in pain. She felt out of breath from that simple movement. “Kore,” Hades said again, “please tell me what happened. If-if you want. If you feel comfortable doing so. Know that I want to know.”

“I don’t want you to hate me,” she whispered, her hand to her aching throat.

Hades’ mouth parted slightly in surprise. Then his face took on a softly passionate look as he said, “I could never, ever, hate you. Especially not for something like this.” 

“Hades, please,” Persephone breathed, “I’m so tired. Can I please just sleep?”

Hades looked at her for a few seconds, then nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Of course. Let's get you more comfortable though. Let me take you to the guest room.” 

He helped her stand, putting his arm around her and holding her long hair up and out of the way. Slowly he walked her to the guest room, Cerberus at their heels. She couldn’t think of anywhere else in the universe where she felt safer. Nowhere that she would rather be than alone here, with Hades, who would keep her safe tonight from anything that could possibly hurt her beyond the walls of this house.

He pulled the soft cover down on the bed, and helped Persephone climb in and ease her head down onto the pillow. Then he pulled the covers up under her chin. His hand brushed her face.

“Will you... will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” 

“Of course.”

She felt tears leak out her eyes. “Will you...will you hold my hand?” 

He grasped her hand with his, “Shhhh,” he said gently, wiping her tears away. “Get some rest. I won’t leave. And neither will Cerberus.” 

Cerberus jumped up onto the bed, and laid his head in Persephone’s lap. Hades sat in an armchair by the bed. In that moment, Persephone didn’t care about anything but her hand in Hades’ hand. There was nothing that made sense to her in that moment, not in Olympus, and not in the Mortal Realm. Her life felt like it was careening out of control and she wasn’t sure how to stop what felt like a runaway chariot. She had no idea how she’d feel in the morning, or the day after that or the day after that. She was exhausted and she was confused and she was still a little bit scared. 

But here, in the Underworld, in Hades’ hand, in Hades’ house, in Hades himself...she was never more sure of anything in all of her existence: She was home.


	3. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecate arrives at Hades’ home, determined to help Persephone—if only Persephone would tell her what happened.

Persephone stood in a clearing in the middle of a forest, her bare feet sunken into the soft soil. Pink flowers bloomed everywhere around her and she took a deep inhale of their sweet scent. Fragrant blue flowers were floating gently to the ground, carried by a light, warm breeze. Persephone’s heart skipped a beat at the site of them, butterflies tickling her stomach.

A twig snapped behind her and she whirled around to find a purple doe standing several feet away, gazing at her cautiously. “Oh hello,” Persephone said, reaching out her hand. “Where did you come from?”

The doe slowly approached Persephone’s outstretched hand, gently sniffing the very tips of her fingers, hesitant to get too close. A flower crown bloomed on the doe’s head with a faint _floom,_ and Persephone giggled. 

All of a sudden, it grew dark--the sky above her turning a deep purple. _How strange_ , Persephone thought, gazing up at the cloudless sky. When she looked back at the doe, its eyes burned yellow and she saw that it wasn’t a doe at all, but a deer, with jagged antlers growing larger and larger from its head. She stumbled backwards in surprise, suddenly afraid, her feet slipping on a patch of dewy grass.

She turned and began to sprint away from the deer, deeper and deeper into the forest. The trees and plants around her were dying as she passed them, and the air was turning cold. She couldn’t bear to look backwards but she knew the deer was close behind. 

_Bringer of death, what did you do_ a distant voice sang.

She broke through the trees and kept running, panting, out of breath, her throat stinging. She saw ahead of her that she was coming up to the edge of a cliff but she couldn’t slow down. 

_It’s okay,_ she thought, _I have wings._

And so she leapt from the cliff, but no wings saved her. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. She was flailing, terrified, the ground so close. As she braced for impact, she heard a voice in her ear, as though a man was right beside her, falling with her. 

_You’re flying_ , it said.

***

Persephone shot up in bed, gasping for air, coughing. Where was she, what happened? Hades’ eyes flew open, sitting up from the chair where he had been sleeping. A dream. It was a dream. She was here with Hades and it had just been a dream. 

“Kore!” Hades jumped up and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. His weight pulled the covers tight, and her eyes flashed red, a warning. “No!” she shouted and she pushed Hades off the bed. Surprised, he barely caught himself before he fell to the floor. 

“Whoa, okay, it’s okay,” Hades said, holding up his hands. 

“Hades!” Persephone gasped, covering her mouth in surprise, the reds from her eyes fading back to her normal pink. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Hades responded, soothingly, brushing it off. He seemed to think better about sitting on the bed again, and instead opted for the armchair next to the bed, where it appeared he had spent the night. He was still in his clothes from the day before, and his hair was unkempt. Persephone was embarrassed she had reacted that way, pushed away one of the only people she trusted implicitly. She pulled the covers up around her, drawing her knees to her chest. 

“Really, it’s fine,” Hades said kindly. “ _I’m_ sorry. I surprised you. I shouldn’t have jumped up towards you so fast. Are you okay? Can I get you something? Water? Food?” 

“Um…” Persephone didn’t know what she wanted. Her hair plastered to her head in a cold sweat, and damp spots on her nightgown clung to her body. “Uh, water, I guess, would be good.” 

“Okay.” Hades slowly rose to his feet. “I’ll be right back with some water.”

As he left the room, Persephone took in her surroundings, curiously. The sheets and blankets on the bed were a deep blue. Heavy black curtains framed a window that looked out over the night sky of the Underworld. A sleek chest of drawers with an oval mirror on top was up against the wall. The chair Hades had been sitting in was a deep maroon. Hades certainly had a dark aesthetic. She liked its elegant minimalism. The darkness was soothing, not frightening. Neon light leaked in from the city outside. 

She could see her reflection in the oval mirror. She took herself in—hair long and tangled, eyes rimmed with dark circles. Her neck was crisscrossed with ropes of deep maroon bruising, and another dark bruise marred the side of her face in the shape of a handprint; Apollo had temporarily branded her with his violence. Looking closer, she saw yellow spots all around her eyes—her capillaries must have burst, the golden ichor that was the blood of the gods and goddesses dotted her face beneath the skin. She lifted her left arm—another dark bruise on her wrist. 

But worst of all were her eyes. They were heavy-lidded with despair.

She began to take stock of her pain. She gently touched the bruise on her cheek—it stung and ached, as did the one of her wrist. Her hands grazed her neck to find her skin slightly raised there where Apollo had strangled her, and it hurt to the touch. It hurt a lot. She recalled the sound of her voice earlier—raspy, strained. Her vocal chords were most likely damaged from the pressure put on her neck. Her throat was dry and swollen and it burned. As for the rest of her, she felt a general aching malaise, everywhere sore and tender.

She knew that all of this was temporary. She would heal from these injuries. It would probably take about three days for her to be good as new—gods and goddesses healed faster than, say, nymphs or satyrs, and vastly faster than mortals. But the injuries that weren’t physical? Persephone feared those might never heal. She felt the thought of them sliding backwards in her mind, like a cool stream, to rest repressed at the base of her head.

She suddenly felt much better, though she was keenly aware that while her mind worked to protect her, there was nothing healthy in her relief. 

She shifted her body so that she wouldn’t be able to see herself in the mirror anymore, and a bit of white caught her eye. Across from the bed, a lone portrait hung on the wall: an oil painting of one of Hades’ dogs, Cordon Bleu, in a black bow tie and crown. She giggled. Hades was such a dork.

Hades knocked softly on the open door before coming in with a glass of water, handing it to her gently. He followed Persephone’s gaze to the picture, seeing her grin. He smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair, the faintest plum of a blush on his cheeks. “Well,” he said, apologetically, “The crown was really going to his head, so I thought he deserved a portrait fit for a prince. Though don’t tell him it hangs in a guest room, he might be offended.”

Persephone stared at Hades. Then she burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

“Haha, okay good.”

Persephone grinned widely at him, “You’re such a dork.” A single butterfly floated across the room.

Hades cleared his throat. “So, um, how are you feeling?” 

Persephone took a sip of water and inhaled a deep breath through her nose, considering his question. “I’m...not sure,” she said, truthfully. Persephone wasn’t sure how much truth she’d be able to tell, though.

Cerberus’ head poked in from the doorway. 

“Oh, my good boy, come here!” Persephone reached her arms out towards him and he ran into them, jumping on the bed and plopping himself in her lap. “What a good boy you are,” she cooed, as she scratched behind his ears. She grinned to Hades, whose face held an intense expression she couldn’t quite identify. 

“He adores you,” Hades said, his voice husky. He cleared his throat. “The ferocious Gatekeeper of the Underworld reduced to a puppy in your hands.” Cerberus wagged his tail. 

“Oh, he’s not ferocious,” Persephone said in her sweet baby voice reserved for adorable animals, “he’s my good boy. Yes you are, yes you are.” Cerberus panted happily, giving Hades an annoyed look that clearly said, “What are _you_ still doing here? Leave us alone to cuddle in peace.”

For a moment, both Hades and Persephone gazed with genuine smiles at the sweet dog before them. Persephone’s mind flashed back to last night, Cerberus’ three heads growling and barking, his large body shielding her, protecting her.

Her smile faltered as she turned to Hades and said, soberly, “Hades....what happens now?”

***

They were in Hades’ kitchen, and he was brewing them coffee, just like that first Sunday morning after the party. Mushroom wandered in and began drinking from his water dish on the floor. Hades had recommended Persephone get some food in her while they talked, and her growling empty stomach emphatically agreed.

She was clothed in a button down shirt of Hades’, so big on her it practically touched the floor, and wrapped in a black robe that smelled like him. Hades passed her a mug of coffee, and leaned up against the counter.

“Where is Apollo?” She asked.

“He’s at Zeus’ office.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“I’m not sure.” Hades took a sip of his coffee. “He attacked you in Olympus, which falls under Zeus’ jurisdiction. It will be up to him how this will proceed, and the ultimate judgment will be Zeus’ to make.”

“Ultimate judgment? You mean, like...a punishment?” 

“Yes,” Hades replied. “Apollo attacked you, harmed you. He needs to be held accountable for that.” And then, almost to himself, he muttered, “A lesson needs to be taught.”

Persephone turned her face away. Was that what she wanted? For him to be punished? What would that even mean? Pain? She was so confused. She took a sip of the warm coffee—it soothed her aching throat.

She felt Hades’ eyes on her, and she turned her head to look at him.

“Persephone,” he began, “what hap-“

_Buzz buzz. Buzz buzz._

Hades’ question was interrupted by his buzzing phone. Persephone jumped at the first ring, her heart hammering because whatever the call was about, she was sure it involved her. 

“One moment, it’s Hecate,” Hades apologized, answering the phone. 

“Hecate, yes, hello. Yes, she’s here. Um, yes. Yeah, okay. See you in a bit.”

Hades hung up the phone. “Hecate is on her way,” he explained. “She’ll be able to give us an update.“ Persephone simply nodded in response, her chest tightening. What was going to happen? What would she have to reveal? She watched as tiny little Fudge waddled into the room, his little claws clacking on the marble floor, and began eating from one of the food dishes left out for the dogs. She stared silently, the only sound in the kitchen Fudge’s crunches on the kibble. 

Before long, or maybe it took ages, there was a knock on the door that broke Persephone out of her reverie. Hades ran to answer it and returned with Hecate. She looked exhausted, yet still somehow impeccable; her pantsuit crisp, not a single wrinkle. 

“Persephone,” Hecate reached out her arms, and bent down to hug Persephone in her chair. Persephone bit her lip to will away the tears that threatened to leak out her eyes. Hecate’s hug was gentle, but firm. She felt safe in her embrace, her cool hands a comfort on Persephone’s aching body. 

When Hecate pulled away, she cupped Persephone’s face in her hands. “I am so glad that you are okay, Persephone,” she said softly. “I am so, so glad.”

As she lowered her hands, the corners of her mouth turned down. “We need to talk.“

Hecate lowered herself into a chair across from Persephone, accepting a mug of coffee from Hades, who took a seat next to Persephone. Hecate sniffed the coffee and put it down, untouched, on the table. 

“What’s the news?” Hades asked. “What has Zeus done with Apollo?”

Persephone kept her eyes on the coffee cup in her hands. It would be better if Hades asked the questions; she didn’t know where to even begin.

Hecate hesitated before saying, “Zeus sent him home.”

Persephone lifted her eyes to Hecate’s face. The cup Hades was holding cracked in his hand, coffee dripping onto the table.

“Hades!” Hecate admonished sharply, pointing at him. “Get it together.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hades said reaching for a towel and mopping up the mess. “But what do you mean Zeus _sent him home?_ What in Gaia’s name would compel him to do such a thing?”

Hecate looked to Persephone. 

“Apollo is claiming that Persephone stole his lyre.” Persephone’s eyes returned to bore a hole in the coffee cup in her hands.

Hades scoffed. “Do you really expect anyone to believe that?” 

Persephone swallowed painfully against a tightening in her throat. She felt Hecate’s eyes on her. 

“Apollo’s lyre was found hidden in Persephone’s room.”

“And?” Hades interjected. “I’m sure he planted it there to-“

“Persephone,” Hecate interrupted, “did you steal Apollo’s lyre?”

Persephone could lie. She could claim Hades’ version of events was true, claim that she had absolutely no idea how the lyre could possibly have found its way into her room, insist that she would never do something as drastic as steal a god’s sacred object. She _could_ lie. But she wouldn’t. And besides her silence spoke the truth without her having to even utter a word.

“Kore,” Hades said, surprised, “is this true?”

Persephone sighed. “Yes, okay? I took his lyre.”

“But, why?” Hades asked, confused. 

Persephone skipped over Hades’ question. “I only had it in my possession for maybe, like, 30 minutes tops,” she insisted, feeling her anger rise. What did it even matter? She had barely touched it.

“Persephone, Apollo is claiming his lyre has been missing for a week.”

“What?!” Persephone felt vines begin to grow from her hair. 

“Yes,” Hecate nodded, soberly. “He says he came to your room last night to ask you if you had seen it, and that you told him you’d stolen it because you are jealous of his powers.” Persephone felt a ringing in her ears. “He claims you attacked him when asked to have it back, and that he acted in self-defense.”

She heard Hades exclaim something, outraged, but his voice sounded far away. She felt as though she were outside of her body, as though the world had slowed down and she was sinking into the floor, the earth determined to swallow her whole. How many more ways could Apollo ruin her life? What else was he going to take from her? And _why_? What had she done to deserve his unwanted attention? Why was he so determined to possess her, to control her?

“Persephone? Persephone are you okay?” Hades voice broke brought Persephone back, grounding her. She found that the vines in her hair now flowed all the way to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Persephone said. “What were you saying?”

“Why did you take Apollo’s lyre?” Hecate asked, concern in her eyes. “Taking another god’s sacred object is a very serious crime. So why did you do it?”

Persephone stayed silent.

“Kore,” Hades said gently, turning towards her. He glanced at Hecate before continuing. “Kore, if you walk us through what happened last night, we can help you. If we tell Zeus the whole story, we can fight this. Please, Kore. What happened last night? Why did you take Apollo’s lyre? Why was he in your room?”

Persephone’s heart was pounding again, and her breathing quickened. She couldn’t. She couldn't say it. She couldn’t. How could she possibly say it out loud? How? Then everyone would know. Everyone would know that she was dirty. They would know that she was no longer a sacred virgin, her whole life, ruined, because she was stupid enough to have let this happen, to have gotten herself into this situation. Her scholarship would be revoked, everyone would be disgusted by her. Would her mother even allow her to come home? Could Persephone even bear to look at her mother, if she knew the truth?

Persephone was supposed to be a role model. She was supposed to be pure and giving, living a life completely in service to others. All of it, gone. All of it, _ruined_. She was every bit the child everyone thought she was. She was a dumb village girl, and she would never be anything more than that.

She realized suddenly that she was sobbing, her head buried in her hands. She felt Hades place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off, standing up so forcefully that her chair tipped over. She caught a glimpse of the surprise on Hades’ and Hecate’s faces, their brows raised in concern and alarm. 

Before either of them could say another word, Persephone ran. She ran from the room, throwing open the front door and sprinting out into the eternal darkness of the Underworld. She heard Hades, shouting her name, but she didn’t stop. She could barely see through her tears, her body still shaking, wracked with uncontrollable sobs. 

She pushed off from the ground, ignoring her body’s protests at the physical exertion. She rose into the air, trying to get as far away from Hades and Hecate as possible. She had to hide. She had to hide the truth. 

With tears of grief burning on her cheeks, the wind stinging her skin, Persephone flew up towards Olympus, forcing herself not to hear his shouts, forcing herself to not look back at the man she adored. A king whose judgment would destroy her more than Apollo ever could. 


	4. Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone seeks comfort in Eros, but Aphrodite oversteps her bounds. Persephone makes a choice in what to share with Hades.

Persephone’s tears dried cold to her cheeks by the wind, her hair whipping out behind her. She knew she couldn’t outrun Hades--he was older, stronger, and had much more stamina. She was barely staying afloat as it was. But seeing as Hades had not caught up to her the further she flew, it seemed he wasn’t following her after all. She felt a pang of disappointment, which was unfair to him as she had literally just run from his house and flew into the air to get away from him, ignoring his calls for her to stop and come back.

She had lost Hades’ robe when she leapt into the air, so that all she had on was his button-down shirt, clinging to her now-shivering body. She didn’t even realize where she was headed until she arrived on a sun-drenched lawn in Olympus, with a heart-shaped window on a purple front door. 

Persephone landed on the porch, exhausted, barefoot and aching, and began to pound frantically on the door, “Eros! Eros! Please! Eros!” The door swung open to reveal a young goddess who looked both half-asleep and barely interested in whatever crisis had just appeared on her doorstep. _Sugar snaps,_ Persephone forgot Eros’ entire giant family lived with him. She recognized the blonde-haired, green goddess in front of her as Agape, who hadn’t looked up from her phone the last time Persephone saw her.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry to barge in on you like this but I need to speak to Eros!” 

His little sister took a deep breath and shouted, “EROS! YOUR WEIRD PINK FRIEND IS HERE.” Then she shuffled off unceremoniously.

Eros appeared in the hallway moments later, fuzzy pink slippers on his feet, rubbing his eyes groggily. When he saw the state of Persephone at his door, his eyes widened in surprise and he ran to her.

“Persephone? What in Olympus is going on? Are you okay?”

“Eros!” Persephone sobbed, throwing herself at him and burying her face into his middle.

“Persephone, you’re freezing!” Eros rubbed her arms up and down to warm them. He extended his wings, wrapping them around her and pulling her tight to him, one hand protectively cradling the back of her head.

Persephone began to talk fast through her tears, to get it all out before her sobs took over. 

“Oh, Eros, I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to come! Apollo attacked me last night and Hades came and helped me and Hecate was there and now Apollo is saying I stole his lyre and they need me to tell the truth but I can’t say it how do I say it I don’t want to say it help me Eros please!”

She looked up into Eros’ face, which held a baffled expression as he tried to follow her frantic words. As they sank in, he held her tighter and tighter, his arms and wings protecting her. “It’s alright,” he soothed. “You’re safe here. We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure out what to do.”

Persephone’s shivering began to subside and she took a deep, shuddering breath. When she heard footsteps approach, she hugged her arms to Eros’ waist even tighter.

“Hades,” she heard Eros say in surprise. She felt a soaring feeling in her chest. Breaking away from Eros, she turned to see Hades standing there, his hair windblown, his shirt and pants wrinkled. “Hades,” Persephone breathed. So he had been following her after all. He must have lagged behind on purpose, allowing her space--gods, did she even deserve him as her friend?

Eros tucked his wings back in, placing an arm protectively around Persephone’s shoulder. Hades was gazing intently at Persephone, and she held his gaze, wishing she could soothe out the worry creasing his forehead. 

“It’s kind of chilly out here. Won’t you both please come inside?” Eros stepped aside, ushering them through the door. He had barely closed the door behind them when a voice shouted from down the hall, “Eros! What in the ever-loving _fuck_ is that racket!?” 

“Uh oh,” Eros muttered, “Mother is awake.”

Aphrodite walked glaring into the room, looking radiant in a long satin nightgown, with a lace trim and a slit up the side, a sleeping mask pushed off her face. She stopped short when she saw the scene in front of her: Eros in his PJs, Persephone in a men’s dress shirt, and an unkempt Hades.

“Oh,” Aphrodite said with distaste, looking at Persephone, “it’s you. With Aidoneus in tow. What an interesting turn of events.” Her sardonic tone was not lost on Persephone. “So, what, trouble in paradise already?”

“Ma! Be nice!”

She looked from Persephone to Hades, eyeing the men’s dress shirt and Hades’ mussed hair. Persephone crossed her arms self-consciously—Aphrodite had a way of looking at you as though she knew all your secrets and had no problem sharing them. 

“Well, I see you two have finally taken your relationship to the next level. So what’s the problem?” 

“N-no, no that’s not-” Persephone began, panicked. 

“Isn’t it?” Aphrodite grinned wickedly. 

“Mom, stop, now!” Eros said sharply.

“What? They’re the ones who showed up at the Goddess of Beauty’s home at the gods damn _crack of dawn_ , pounding down my door shouting for the God of Love.” She examined her fingernails, saying casually, “So you two kids finally got it on, huh? How was it? You know Hera banned us from using our powers on other gods, so if it was bad, we can’t help you out.”

Eros grabbed his mom’s wrist and yanked, “That is _not_ what’s happening here!”

Aphrodite looked keenly at Persephone, then her eyes widened, her pupils dilating. “Well, well, well,” she said, “whatever will Hestia and the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood think when they learn their newest recruit isn’t even a virgin?”

Persephone felt the room spinning, her mind reeling, remembering how Eros had told her he and his mother could both tell when someone was no longer a virgin.

“Ma!” Eros clamped his hand over his mother’s mouth and lifted her into the air, throwing her over his shoulder and stomping out of the room. They could hear her muffled protests as he carried her further into the house, leaving Persephone alone there, with Hades, who just heard the awful truth about the supposed eternal maiden standing before him.

She turned slowly to face Hades and saw that he was blushing, clearly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, “Persephone,” he said. “D-don’t...don’t worry. It’s none of my business and I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” He turned his head, not meeting her eyes, and raked a hand through his hair.

Before she could respond, Eros came bounding back into the room, taking Persephone’s hands in his own.

“Persephone, I am so, so sorry about what just happened. She never should have made the assumptions she made. And…” he glanced at Hades and then lowered his voice, leaning closer to Persephone, “And she never should have revealed what her powers showed her.”

Persephone was utterly exhausted, physically and mentally. Added to the long, long list of the things going wrong in her life, was now this—some other choice taken from her, yet another instance where her privacy was completely violated. She wasn’t sure if she had the capacity to go on, or if she had the energy to care that her secret was out. 

But out it was. And the only people who heard the truth were Eros (who already knew) and Hades (who she trusted would never tell anyone). She doubted Hades would judge her for something like sex. Sure, he was probably a little perplexed, considering her status as a TGOEM candidate, but she knew he was too polite to ask questions, meaning she wouldn’t have to answer any—like who, and why. 

Persephone squeezed Eros’ hands, hoping to alleviate the distress on his face. “It’s not your fault your mother has no tact,” she said, emotionless. 

Eros ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. It bounced back up immediately upon smoothing it down, his pink curls only accentuating the handsomeness of his face. He eyed the marks on her neck and the handprint on her cheek. She knew he had heard the strain in her voice. “Tea,” he said firmly. “You need some tea.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Let me make some tea, and we can talk about what happened. Or we can just sit and drink the tea. Whatever you’d like.” 

Persephone gave a small smile. “I’d like that. Is it okay if I step outside while you brew it? I could use some air.” 

“Of course. There’s a garden out back you might enjoy, my dear Goddess of Spring.” He winked, and gestured to the back door. Persephone began to walk towards the backyard, looking over her shoulder and giving Hades a long, meaningful glance. He understood her invitation to join her, and followed her outside. 

***

The garden smelled lovely, the aromatic scent of lavender permeating throughout. Stems of purple bellflowers and violet asters lined a stone walkway. There were hydrangea bushes and peonies. Roses, pansies, azalea, larkspur. It was a stunning garden. Persephone wondered vaguely if Aphrodite planted and maintained this gorgeous, intimate space herself. It would certainly make sense that the Goddess of Beauty be surrounded by all things beautiful. 

Persephone and Hades walked slowly through the garden, Persephone’s hands lightly brushing the bushes, sprouting pink and blue cosmos from her fingertips, the petals popping up with small _flooms_. Hades still wasn’t saying anything, so she turned to him, blue flowers weaving through her hair.

“Hades,” she began.

“Kore, I promise, it’s none of my business and I won’t tell anyone.”

“No, no, I know you won’t. Truly, I trust you and I know you wouldn’t do that.” They stopped at a small bench sitting underneath a weeping willow covered in cherry blossoms. Hades took a seat, and Persephone began to slowly pace back and forth in front of him, trying to piece together her thoughts. This was going to be so hard, but she knew Hades needed some more information if he was going to be able to help her. Maybe she could share it in such a way that she didn’t _really_ have to say it out loud. She took a deep breath.

“Hades. You wanted to know why I took Apollo’s lyre.” 

Hades’ gaze was intense, but his eyes were soft pools of compassion. She loved how he looked at her. _Focus, Perse_ , she said to herself. _You can do this. It’s just Hades._

“So, um. So you heard what Aphrodite said in there and well….well, it’s-it’s t-true. I’m not….y’know….an eternal maiden...anymore.”

Still Hades watched her and said nothing, giving her the space she needed to voice what she had to say, without pressure or judgment or interruptions. Persephone realized now, more than ever, how much she trusted him. She knew he, too, was no stranger to trauma—while she didn’t know the intimate details, it was no secret that Hades had been held captive by his father before the Titanomachy. Hades knew suffering. This was a safe space and he was so kind and so gentle and so understanding. She could do this.

“Hades, you’ve probably put the pieces together that it was Apollo. Apollo is the reason I’m not a v-virgin anymore. But, the thing is, it wasn’t exactly my choice to not be a virgin anymore.”

Hades sat up straight, his irises taking on a red tinge. Persephone turned her head away briefly, took a deep breath, and then looked Hades directly in the eye. She realized vaguely that she was crying.

“Persephone,” he said cautiously, “are you telling me...that you didn't _want_ to sleep with Apollo? That he...that he _forced_ you?”

She gazed down at the ground and gave a tiny nod. Hades leapt up off the bench and Persephone’s arm shot out, grabbing his wrist.

“Hades, please,” she begged, “please stay calm.”

“Calm? Persephone, how am I supposed to stay calm when you just told me that Apollo ra-“

“No!” Persephone shouted, covering her ears, stopping Hades before he could get the word out. She still couldn’t say it, and she could barely stand to hear it. “No, Hades. D-don’t say it.”

He took a deep breath, watching her, and slowly sat back down on the bench. He reached out hesitantly and wiped away a tear from her still-stinging cheek. “Okay,” he said softly, “okay, I won’t say it. But, Kore, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, wiping away the rest of her tears and taking a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. Isn’t it enough to fight this that he attacked me last night? Can’t that be enough? I don’t...I don’t know if I can share publicly what he did to me. I can talk about last night but...I don’t think I’m ready to talk about anything else. So, can’t the attack be enough proof that he’s bad? Shouldn’t attacking a goddess be enough to warrant some consequences?”

“It _should_ be enough, Kore, but...I don’t know. There is the fact that you took his lyre. It’s going to be hard to explain that away; to justify why you took it. And without a reason for taking it, it just strengthens Apollo’s version of events. But I don’t want you to do anything you are uncomfortable to do or say anything you are not ready to say.”

“It was an impulsive decision, to take his lyre,” Persephone said softly, her eyes on the ground. “But I just...he’s taken so much from me, in such a short amount of time. He showed up at my school to give me a ride home, he’s always at the house, he keeps trying to force me to talk to him, and when he came banging on your car window, trying to force me to talk to him some more I guess I...I guess I just snapped. I just wanted to take something from _him_. Something that meant a lot, that he cared about, that he would miss. I don’t even know what I intended to do with it.”

“Kore, I understand. We can work with Hecate, we can figure out a defense that we can use that won’t reveal anything you don’t want to share. I’ll come with you to talk to Zeus. He’s not necessarily known for being reasonable but, he _is_ my brother. That should mean _something_ ,” Hades finished with a bitter edge to his voice. 

“It’s just,” she hedged, “it’s just I don’t want to lie. I don’t want my integrity to come into question. I just want to protect myself. I just want fairness. Apollo attacked me last night. It shouldn’t matter that I took his lyre—he _choked_ me, he _hit_ me, he intimidated me and he scared me. I said no so many times last night, I made it so clear I wanted him to leave. And he wouldn’t. Hades, I was so scared.”

Hades reached for Persephone’s hand and she let him take it. He gently pulled her to him, hesitating only for a moment before wrapping his arms around her. She put her arms around him, leaning into the hug. She felt so safe with Hades, so cared for. She was so lucky he wanted to be her friend, so lucky that he wanted to help her.

They stayed like that for a long time, Hades holding, not saying anything. Persehone was drifting off into sleep, her head on Hades’ shoulder, when she heard footsteps behind her. She opened her eyes and slowly pulled away from Hades, turning around to see Eros walking towards them. 

“Tea is ready,” he said. It was only there for a tiny moment before it was gone, but Persephone saw a satisfied little smirk on the God of Love’s face, at the sight of her in Hades’ arms.

***

Eros made delicious tea. It had a hint of peach to the flavor and it soothed her sore throat. She sipped it, grateful for her friend. They were all seated around the kitchen table, Hades across from her and Eros next to her. She noticed that his pajama pants were patterned with rubber ducks, and she smiled widely at him. 

“There she is,” Eros smiled back, lightly rubbing the top of her head. “Let’s do something about this hair.” He jumped up from the table, presumably to go get some scissors. 

“I didn’t realize you and Eros were friends,” Hades commented. 

Persephone nodded. “We recently became friends. He actually—he figured out what happened. He encouraged me to tell someone, but I just couldn’t do it. If I had then maybe—“

“Hey,” Hades cut her off, reaching for her hand. She let him take it in both of his own, his skin warm, his large hands a comfort. “It’s alright that you weren’t ready. I’m just glad that he was stopped last night.”

She nodded in agreement. “Thanks to you.”

“No,” he shook his head, “Thanks to _you_. It takes strength to ask for help. I took care of him physically, but you rescued yourself last night. It’s not easy to overpower an Olympian—very few people could have done it themselves.”

“Now you’re just bragging,” she smiled.

Hades smiled back. “Maybe a little bit.” Persephone giggled. 

“But, Kore, really. You are strong. You have a lot of fortitude. You should be proud of yourself and your strength.” Hades’ eyes were so genuine. Maybe, in time, she would accept that there was truth to his words. Maybe she really was strong. 

Eros bounded back into the room with scissors in hand but stopped abruptly upon seeing Hades and Persephone gazing at each other. His little smirk was back. They both pulled their hands away from each other hurriedly, trying to look casual. Eros’ smirk widened. 

“Let’s cut that hair,” he said, without further comment. 

Eros cut it short, and it felt wonderful to shed that weight—her hair had grown so much since last night. “Awww, cutie pie!” Eros swooned. “Your hair turns to petals when you cut it? You are the personification of a cinnamon roll, you adorable little goddess.” 

Persephone batted his hand away playfully. “Enough of that!” Eros giggled. Persephone caught Hades’ eye, and there was humor in it, watching their banter. 

As they drank their tea, Persephone filled Eros in on the details of the previous night, and the accusations Apollo was now lobbying against her. Eros promised emphatically that he would do whatever he could to help, including testifying on her behalf, should it come to that.

The combination of the lightness she now felt with shorter hair along with the warmth of the tea was making Persephone sleepy. She couldn’t stop herself from yawning widely. 

“Honey, you must be exhausted.” Eros placed a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to lay down?” 

Persephone turned a grateful smile to Eros, but then looked to Hades. “Is it okay if I come back to the Underworld?” she asked. His eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “It’s just...I know the shitty little sun god can’t get there.” Persephone was repeating back to Hades his original description of Apollo. 

He smiled gently, “Of course you can. Let’s get you rested up, and we can go together to talk to Zeus, okay?” She nodded sleepily, pushing back from the table. 

Eros walked them to the door, hugging Persephone tight, kissing her lightly on the top of her head. “Call me later, okay?” 

“I promise.” She smiled. “Thank you, for everything. For being the greatest.” 

“Oh stop,” Eros waved away the compliment. “I just happen to be the pinnacle of emotional intelligence, that’s all.” Persephone grinned widely.

“Okay, little goddess,” Hades said. “Let’s go home.” She wasn’t sure if Hades realized the little slip-up, insinuating that his house was her home, too, but she relished the idea, letting herself lean into the fantasy. She wanted to wrap herself up in his blankets and play with his dogs, and just stop thinking for awhile. 

“Can we stop at Artemis’ first? I should grab some stuff. As much as I appreciate your shirt, I probably should put my own clothes on.” 

Hades nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single rose, holding it out to her. Persephone just stared at it.

“For you,” Hades said, blushing, “I took it from the garden.”

“Hades,” Persephone began, a small smile creeping up her lips, “Are you giving a flower to the Goddess of Spring?” 

He paused, staring at the flower in his outstretched hand. “Oh, um, I guess I am.” He was blushing further, from embarrassment. 

Persephone’s heart swelled. She felt something filling up the hole Apollo had punctured in her. It was a feeling that pushed away negative thoughts, that casted out pain, and it fluttered inside of her. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but she felt warm, she felt overwhelmed, like roses were blooming in the empty parts of her, one by one, reminding her that there was goodness out there, that not all men took and took and took. Some men gave. Hades gave. 

Hades, picking a flower without thinking that he was handing it to someone whose specialty was flowers, who had all the flowers anyone could ever ask for and then some, making it a sweet and lovely gift for someone struggling with something unbelievably hard….it was not only the most adorable thing, but it was the kindest and most generous gesture she had ever encountered.

She smiled widely at him, taking the flower and putting it in her newly-short hair. 

“Do I look sufficient?” she quipped. 

Hades’ small smile reached his eyes as he surveyed her, nodding once, and saying softly, “You look sufficient.”


	5. Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone has an encounter with Artemis.

Hades removed his suit jacket and draped it over Persephone’s shoulders, his hands lingering for just a moment. With everything that was going on, Persephone still registered that she was now wearing not one but _two_ items of Hades’ clothing, and the smell of him was overwhelming and intoxicating--smokey and masculine; it crackled inside her.

“I, um, I flew here,” Hades stated. “So. And. I don’t want to have you walking with your injuries. And I know flying is exhausting...” He was stopping and starting, hesitating to get out what he was trying to say. Persephone knew what he wanted to ask, so she helped him along.

“Yeah, my body is really feeling everything right now, especially after flying earlier.” She hid her face a little, still feeling kind of ashamed of running away from him. “If you could help me get to Artemis’ house, I’d really appreciate it.” She looked up at Hades’ face. He looked relieved, the awkwardness dissipating. 

She lifted her arms to him at the exact same moment he reached out to her. They were so in sync, and they barely knew one another. So why did it feel like she knew Hades her entire life? Why was there this feeling deep inside her that it would be unbearable if her future didn’t include him?

He lifted her gently, careful not to put too much pressure on her strained body. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and settled in, laying her head lightly on his chest. Hades’ feet left the ground, carrying them up and forward. 

It didn’t take long to arrive at Artemis’ house. Hades landed but didn’t hurry to put Persephone down. She found that she was okay with this. She had no idea what they would discover here, or even what information Artemis had been told. She hoped no one was home--she wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible, and get back to the safety of the Underworld.

Hades put her down when they reached the front door, and Persephone let herself in. It felt so strange, so different than how it felt just 24 hours ago. To be honest, Artemis’ house never felt like home, not from the moment Apollo showed up. It felt even less so now. Her heart rate was increasing, and she was taking shallow breaths, beginning to panic as they walked up the stairs towards her bedroom. Hades sensed this. “Maybe I should go first,” he suggested. She nodded in relief.

He opened the bedroom door. The place was...a mess. The floor was ripped up, the wall cracked, furniture broken and on its side (surely a result of Cerberus’ sheer size squeezed into this little room). All of her books were knocked off the bookshelf, and her bed covers were twisted on the floor. This was the damage of Hades’ rage. To Persephone, it looked exactly as it should, exactly how she felt. A room torn up in anger she could understand. It looked right that the room in which Apollo attacked her not once, but twice, the room in which he took something precious from her, was completely wrecked. Perhaps it was irreparable. That would be fitting, too. 

She went to her closet, grabbing her suitcase, and began to shove as much of her clothes and shoes in as she could. Luckily, she didn’t have much. She went to the bathroom, tossing in her toothbrush and hair-cutting scissors, and turned frantic eyes towards Hades. “Let’s go, please.” Her heart was pounding, anticipating at any moment someone returning. 

Hades took her bag and her hand and they hurried down the stairs just as the door was opening. Artemis. She looked surprised, and then her eyes narrowed, taking in the scene before her. 

“Are you for _real_ , Persephone?” Artemis said incredulously. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to come back here with _him_ , after what the two of you have done to my brother!” She eyed Persephone's hand in Hades'.

“Artemis,” Persephone said pleadingly, “I don’t know what Apollo told you but--”

Artemis cut her off. “He _told me_ that you stole his lyre. He _told me_ that you called Hades to come slap him around, and then he _told me_ that you ran off with Hades. And _I_ told _him_ that it couldn’t possibly be true. Because how could it be true? How could it be that the sweet, innocent girl that I took into my home out of the goodness of my heart so that she could go to school, with the money given to her with the stipulation that she remain a _role model_ and an _eternal virgin_ ...how could it be that she was actually a liar and a cheat and in a sexual relationship with the King of the Underworld? Because that couldn’t _possibly_ be true!” Artemis was shouting now, her voice getting louder and louder the more she talked. “I came back here to see for myself, because I _trusted you, Persephone!_ I doubted my own brother, in order to give _you_ the benefit of the doubt! And what do I find? You running away with the _Unseen One_ , clothed in his things, with a gods damned _overnight bag_ . Were you two just...just... _fucking_ in my house right now?”

”What! Artemis, no, let me explain!” Persephone cried.

”How could you betray me like this, Persephone?” 

“I didn’t! Artemis, I didn’t. Whatever Apollo told you, it’s not true! Apollo was hurting me!”

“Hurting you?! Persephone, Apollo has done nothing but look out for you and your well-being from the moment he met you! And I see that this entire time that he was telling me that you were a little too cozy with Hades, he was completely right! I can’t _believe_ I let you fool me.” 

“Artemis! Please, listen to me!” Tears were streaming down Persephone’s face, and Artemis’, too. 

“Out,” Artemis said, her voice dangerously low. 

“Wha-what?”

“ _Get out_ of my house. _Get out of my life._ I am no longer responsible for you. I don’t ever want to see you,” she cast a nasty glance towards Hades, “or your _lover_ again.”

Persephone stood facing Artemis, her friend, yet another thing Apollo had now taken from her. She understood that Artemis was angry, but more than that, Persephone realized she was also hurt and confused. Asked to choose between her brother and a girl she hardly knew, of course she’d choose her brother. Artemis was furiously wiping away angry tears, glaring at Persephone and Hades.

Tears continued to silently fall down Persephone’s face, and she knew there was no way she could convince Artemis--not now and maybe not ever--of the truth. Whatever lies Apollo fed his sister, she believed them. 

“Persephone,” Hades said softly, “let’s go.” He placed a hand gently on her arm, and they disappeared from Artemis' home and materialized back in the Underworld.

***

They stood in Hades’ living room, his hand still holding Persephone’s arm. He began to lower it, but Persephone grasped it and lifted it over her shoulder, moving herself closer to Hades. He got the message, wrapping his arms around her as she pushed her face into his middle, squeezing him. 

“Oh, Kore.” His voice was soft, sweet. “Kore, it’s going to be okay.” 

“How?” she asked into Hades’ shirt, her voice muffled. Fresh tears leaked out her eyes.

“Because. Because I…” he trailed off, the rest of his sentence lingering in the air.

Persephone gently stepped back from his embrace. The front of his shirt was wet with her tears and he looked distressed. She put her hands lightly on his. As they stood there, looking into each other’s eyes, Persephone felt that fluttering feeling again, the same one she felt when Hades gave her the rose earlier--a little less empty. 

“Because,” she finished for him, “because we’ll figure it out.”

“Yes,” Hades nodded. “We’ll figure it out.”

Persephone closed her eyes, feeling as though the Fates had a hand in her ending up in Hades’ car that night at the party. She didn’t like the idea that all things were meant to be. Yes, the Fates were real, but if they really predetermined everything, then that would mean that she was always _meant_ to be harmed by Apollo, and she would not accept that that was her destiny. She still had a choice.

“Let me go get dressed,” Persephone said. “And then let’s go talk to Zeus.” Hades nodded, handing her bag to her. Persephone’s mouth was set. Screw the Fates. She was going to make her own destiny.


	6. Summoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened with Hades in between dropping Persephone off after their evening in Hera’s garden, and being summoned for help? You can bet it was a lot of angsty inner turmoil, as he examines his life and makes a choice.

Hades tasted salt water on his lips as he waved goodbye, Poseidon whisking Apollo away to the mortal realm in a tidal wave. His party-boy brother would make sure Apollo spent the rest of the night drinking. He just felt bad for the tavern of poor mortals that would be subjected to the musical stylings of Phoebus Apollo.

Hades turned back to his car to see Persephone had stepped out, holding her hair that had grown long and tangled with vines and leaves. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. Persephone seemed not just uncomfortable around Apollo, but genuinely frightened of him. What was he doing here? Why was he so insistent on talking to her? Was this something that has happened before? Should he ask her about it, or would that upset her? He definitely didn’t want to upset her. His indecisiveness over what to do ended up leaving him silent.

He walked Persephone to the door, and then waited in his car to make sure she was safe inside the house. He saw a light turn on in an upstairs window, and then she was on the balcony, waving goodbye. He waved back, and put the car in reverse, pulling out of the driveway, pensive and conflicted.

The pomelia flower Persephone had given him was still in his shirt pocket, and it felt like a warm, comforting weight right over his heart. His heart. Persephone had his heart. She did. He couldn’t deny it anymore. It didn’t matter that they barely knew each other, or that he was centuries older than her, or that he was a damaged mess, or any of the other things he tried to use to convince himself that his feelings couldn’t possibly be real. He was still not good enough for her, and certainly never would be, and he was sure she’d never have him anyway. But his feelings were real, and they overpowered him.

What happened tonight in Hera’s garden was...intense. A kind of intensity he’d never experienced before. It was like being overwhelmed by a calmness, a goodness—an undeniable sense that everything was okay. What a strange sort of passion. Hades felt such a strong emotional connection to Kore in that garden. He felt safe. Hades was an all-powerful god, a king with massive reach. He’d overpowered tyrants, he’d built the Underworld with his bare hands, he’d accumulated massive wealth. People feared _him_. There was no reason why he should ever feel unsafe—he was untouchable. So why was it that he never felt the safety his own power provided him?

Maybe it was because he never felt like he deserved it. He was torn from his mother at the age of six, swallowed by his father, trapped floating in the darkness, alone, for 13 years. When he was finally rescued, he was thrust into a war. When the war was over, he was sent to be alone again in the dark and the cold—the Underworld. His brothers got to be in the sun and the water, they got to marry and have children, while Hades remained stunted and isolated and lonely. Never believing that he could possibly be worthy of more.

The memories of that day his father swallowed him were burned into his brain, vivid and visceral. Waking up that morning in his mother’s palm, sitting on her shoulder as they gazed at Helios pulling the sun, contemplating the endlessness of time...that was the last time Hades ever felt any sense of security, any belief he was deserving of love.

Until tonight. Until Persephone gave him the pomelia flower and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, her hand pressed to his chest where his heart pounded. When he brushed her hair back from where it fell on her forehead, she looked at him with kindness and trust. She met his eyes and didn’t look away—that was more than most people had done in his entire existence. If his stupid brother hadn’t turned on the sprinklers, dousing them with water and reality, would they have kissed? Is it possible that Persephone would ever want their lips to touch? His hand drifted to his face, cupping the place where her lips had brushed his cheekbone. Of course he was desperately attracted to Persephone. But he knew that all of his desires could be satiated by a glance from her pink eyes, her warm breath hitting his skin as they talked, fingertips brushing. His happiness could be so simple, just to be in the same room as her.

Whatever may have happened, it was a good thing that Zeus stopped it, even though Hades suspected Zeus did it to mess with him for his own amusement. Because Hades was still technically with Minthe, and even though she had treated him horribly today, he couldn’t hurt her back. He _wouldn’t_ hurt her back by having an emotional affair with another woman. When he reached the gate to the Underworld, he turned right and headed towards the high-rise where Minthe lived. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but the pomelia flower in his pocket gave him the strength to not back down. 

Minthe knew how to hurt him. She knew exactly what to say and what to do to make sure his pain was acute and raw and as devastating as possible. But this latest interaction was a whole other level of abuse. They’d gotten into screaming matches before, but Minthe had never struck him the way she did today; she’d never raised her hands to him and physically harmed him. But the combination of her abandonment the night before, her anger in the hallway at work as she compared him to his father and publicly belittled him, as well as the smack to his face were finally enough for Hades to end this thing once and for all. How Minthe had laid her hand on his face was in stark contrast to how Persephone did—one was abusive, the other was gentle. Whatever would happen (or, more likely, not happen) with Persephone had nothing to do with what he was about to do. He loved the way Persephone made him feel, and just 10 minutes in her presence made him believe he actually _deserved_ to feel that way. It was time he made better choices. 

He parked his car and rode the elevator to the 99th floor, where Minthe lived in the penthouse of one of Hades’ pieces of real estate. When he arrived at her door, he took a deep breath, and steeled himself, letting resolve wash over him, remembering the look on Persephone’s face when Hades told her Sicily was home, and knocked.

When Minthe opened the door, she looked worse for wear. Her hair was tangled, her face smeared with mascara. She’d clearly been crying.

“Hades,” Minthe said in surprise. 

“Minthe,” was all he responded. He was frozen. 

“Hades, come in, please. Please let me talk to you, let me apologize to you for what happened, please…”

Hades forced his feet to walk forward into the apartment. He was uncomfortable, and he felt claustrophobic, trapped, even though he knew he could easily brush past Minthe and walk out the door. But could he bring himself to? Persephone wrapping her hand around his fingers flashed in his mind. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Minthe offered, her voice urgent.

“No, thank you.”

“Please, sit.”

“I’d prefer to stand.”

Minthe wrapped her arms around herself, a protective gesture, but her hands were claw-like, and could lash out at him at any moment. “Alright. Hades—“ she began, but he cut her off.

“Minthe...what are we doing? We know we’re not right for each other. We’ve never been right for each other. We’ve spent years using each other to try and fill some kind of void within ourselves, and we still feel empty. We have to stop this. I know I’m not perfect. I’m not even okay. I’m pretty detestable actually.” Hades felt himself spiraling into his self-loathing, but he willed himself to go on, remembering the feel of Persephone’s finger dragging across his back at dinner. 

“But I’ve tried to be good to you. I think I have been good to you. I wanted to give us a chance. But this isn’t working, and you know it.”

“Hades!” Minthe said desperately. “Hades, if this is about earlier, you have to know that I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that—“

Hades cut her off again. “It’s not just what happened earlier, Minthe. It’s been what’s happening for years. I’ve let you walk all over me, because I don’t want to be alone. I’ve accepted you treating me like trash because I believed that I am, that that’s all that I deserved.” Tears were welling up in Hades’ eyes, and falling from Minthe’s. She wiped them away furiously, as though trying to hide their existence. And then her face changed from one of hurt to one of anger.

“Oh, you think you deserve better than me?” Her eyes narrowed. “Then why were you going to propose to me? I found the ring, Hades! You thought I was good enough then! That’s why I didn’t go to the party that night. I couldn’t stand the thought of you on your knees, pathetically begging me to consider you, to actually publicly agree to be your wife.”

Hades was taken aback. Minthe didn’t come to the Panathenaeon because she knew he was going to propose? Because the thought of being married to him was so repulsive. He swallowed painfully.

“If that’s true,” he said, clearing his throat, “if I’m so abhorrent to you, then why are you crying? Why did you come to my door begging me not to leave you behind? What do you _want_ from me?! I have tried to give you everything you wanted, in the hopes that you would love me. Purses and dresses! This apartment! My love, my hand in marriage, my kingdom, _anything_ to just get you to not leave me! So why are you here if you hate me so much? If I stink of _death_ to you?” 

Instead of answering, Minthe said harshly, “You think she’ll have you? That little pink flower bimbo, with her holier-than-thou, goodie-two-shoes act? Please. I’m sure you repulse her. You’re ancient and tainted and ugly inside and out. How could you ever imagine she’d give you the time of day?”

Hades had an urge to fall to his knees, to beg forgiveness from Minthe, to spend the rest of his existence making it up to her, this transgression in his behavior, this mistake of even entertaining the thought of leaving her. He felt a ringing in his ears, a weight on his back, pushing him down. 

But then he remembered what Persephone said in the car. _I thought being with someone meant looking out for each other._ She had thought that naive. But Hades wanted to see the world the way Persephone did: not as things were, but as they could be. He straightened his spine, his jaw clicking. 

“Goodbye Minthe,” he said simply. And turned and walked out the door.

***

Hades quickly exited the high-rise, the cool night air of the Underworld stinging his lungs as he struggled to inhale as much air as possible. He was hyperventilating. What had he done? Now he was alone, truly and completely alone. Everything Minthe said was true--he was repulsive and Persephone would never have him, ever. He drew a ragged breath, trying to will himself to calm down.

Suddenly Cerberus materialized at his side, and Hades looked to him in surprise. “What are _you_ doing here?” Cerberus started whining and pacing, growling as one head became two heads became three, his size increasing as he began to grow to his full height. “What the...?”

Without warning, Hades was thrust backwards by two immense, painful thumps in his chest. He felt a tug; he was being summoned. He was suddenly awash in the fear and agony and desperation of the summoner. He shivered violently at the intensity, as though he’d fallen into a freezing pool, the ice water like knives as he broke the surface and began to drown. Flowers flashed in his vision. Persephone. It was Persephone. Oh gods, Persephone was summoning him in terror! Cerberus was barking wildly, running towards the pull of the summons. Hades grabbed him and together they entered the deep abyss, eyes glowing with an ethereal eeriness, his skin swirling and incandescent, a deep blue galaxy—his true form overcoming him. He followed the pull until he materialized in a bedroom.

What he saw was easily the worst thing he had seen in all 2,000 years of his wretched life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that’s right! Hades was swallowed by his dad and fought in a war against the titans and has seen some serious sh*t! But Persephone has his whole heart now, and so her pain is unbearable to him. Told you it was angsty.


	7. Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and Persephone visit Zeus, to give their statement about Apollo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this chapter contains discussion of trauma, physical assault, and rape.

Hades turned on the shower, holding his hands under the stream to test the temperature. As it began to warm, he peeled off his shirt and pants, and looked at himself in the mirror, thinking back on the last two days of his life. His chest and arms were crisscrossed with almost luminescent scars. He ran his hands over the slightly raised and grooved lines of scar tissue, realizing that in all of his 2000 plus years, these scars that covered him were not the most painful thing he’d ever experienced after all.

When he materialized with Cerberus in Persephone’s bedroom, and his eyes took in the scene before him... _that_ was the worst and most painful thing he’d ever experienced—Persephone being held down on the ground by Apollo, bruises on her body, her hair wrapped around her neck choking her. Her agony when she summoned him was so strong, it literally pushed him backwards. It summoned Cerberus as well, several moments before she even hit her hands twice to the floor. That was curious; he knew Cerberus liked Persephone very much, but it seemed their connection was even deeper than he realized. 

It was unfortunate that gods were immortal, because Hades would have loved to kill Apollo right then and there. How dare he lay hands on Persephone? Terrify her, harm her… _rape_ her? His pupils dilated red at the thought, and he blinked it away. He was still trying to wrap his mind around what Persephone had just told him earlier. Though she couldn’t say the word, she made sure Hades understood her meaning—it wasn’t her choice to not be an eternal maiden anymore. 

Hades sighed and stepped into the steaming shower. He and Persephone were both freshening up before heading to see Zeus in Olympus, to discuss what happened last night and determine what happens next. _Of course Zeus would let Apollo go_ , Hades thought bitterly. _His precious Olympian._ He squirted some shampoo in his hands and began scrubbing his hair vigorously. 

He was concerned about what would happen next. He understood Persephone not feeling ready to share that Apollo raped her. He was floored that she had chosen to share something so raw and personal with him. He hoped that he had reacted alright, that she felt he had been a good friend to her as she confided in him. He was no stranger to trauma, and his scars were not just skin deep. Plenty of things were done to Hades against his will. He was almost singularly unique in his particular trauma—only Poseidon also knew what it felt like to be swallowed by their father, kidnapped and kept floating, trapped, in darkness. Hades grew up in his father’s stomach, forgetting how to speak, curled up in a ball of loneliness, his muscles stiff and unmoving for thirteen years. He had spent so much of his time longing for his mother, her warm skin, the feel of her cheekbones against his tiny body, her tinkling laugh when he gifted her his shiny rocks. But as the years passed, he was less and less able to recall her face, until even the memory of love completely dissipated. 

Since leaving his father’s stomach, he’d spent entire lifetimes trying to find that love again, to outrun that loneliness that had become his entire world. He’d looked in all the wrong places until he was certain, without a doubt, that he wasn’t worth love or safety or happiness. But then Persephone came into his life, and it was like breathing for the first time after being trapped—a gasping, almost painful sense of relief, and he felt this urge to breathe in as much and as fast as he could, to swallow the air in huge gulps, in case it would be taken away from him again. 

He couldn’t let it be taken away from him again. Persephone was his oxygen now, and he would be the best friend to her he could possibly be. He would do anything for her. 

He stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and went to his closet to get dressed. He selected black slacks and a blue-gray button down shirt. He was tucking his shirt in and rolling up the sleeves when he heard a soft knock.

“Hades?” Persephone called. 

“In here,” he responded, walking out of the closet to meet her. 

She stood in the doorway to his bedroom, dressed in a knee-length white dress with a pattern of soft pink roses, and a light pink blazer. Her hair was straight, and fell down below her shoulders. It was tucked behind her ears, and a crown of blue flowers capped her head. She was perfection. 

He became suddenly self-conscious, knowing Persephone was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, and he did a quick sweep to make sure there was nothing about it that would embarrass him. He was relieved that his bed was made and there was not one single thing out of place—everything was very neat and organized. He turned his face back towards her. 

“All set?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I think so. Hades...what do you think is going to happen when we get there? Do you think Zeus will be understanding and helpful?”

Honestly, Hades very much doubted that Zeus would be understanding or even remotely helpful. Zeus was incredibly fond of Apollo, who he handpicked as his little golden boy Olympian, and he knew very little of Persephone save that Hades had feelings for her. And since when had Zeus ever given a damn about Hades’ feelings?

“I’m not sure,” Hades hedged. “But I’ll be there with you, if you’d like. I can help you talk to him. Or I can wait outside. Whatever you want, Persephone, I will support you.”

She smiled a little at him. “Thank you,” she said quietly, “I’d like to have you there, I think. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a friend like you.”

Hades shook his head in disbelief. “Kore, it is I who doesn’t deserve _your_ friendship.”

“Oh hush,” she said, waving her hand. She paused, and Hades waited patiently in silence, allowing her to gather her thoughts. “Zeus...I mean, His Royal Majesty...he fights for justice, right?” Hades was a little taken aback by this question.

“It’s just, he fought in the titanomachy. He conquered tyrants and liberated Olympus. Surely he must put justice and duty and what is right above all? He’s the King of the Gods, it’s his job.”

Hades pursed his lips. He was well aware of what the history books said of the Titanomachy, and how many of the finer details they glossed over. Zeus was a glorified hero, and Hades and Poseidon were basically afterthoughts, the truth about their imprisonment in Kronos not even mentioned beyond Zeus liberating his brothers from their captivity. Hades could hardly say he cared what people knew of the war. Let them believe what they wanted about their king—this fearsome yet benevolent version of Zeus was laughable, but Hades had no interest in glory, and would happily live out the rest of eternity doing whatever he could to forget all of it.

“You’re right, it is his job. But, my brother is…” _An idiot? A self-absorbed prick? An arrogant fool?_ “Complicated. But, I think you have a strong case. Your injuries are very apparent, and you have me as a witness.” With a pained expression on his face, Hades cast his eyes over the bruises on Persephone’s neck, the hand mark on her cheek. She was so strong, this lovely little goddess. He would make sure she got her justice.

He held his hand out to her. “Ready?” he asked. She nodded, placing her small hand in his large one. Her skin felt soft like flower petals, and she smelled fragrant, like a garden on a dewy morning. He squeezed her hand gently, and transferred them to the atrium of Zeus’ office, materializing in front of an empty reception desk. 

Hades heard giggling coming from the door to Zeus’ office, and he walked over, knocked hard twice, and flung open the door. Zeus’ receptionist, Thetis, was sitting in her bosses’ lap, her arms around his neck. At Hades’ entrance, Zeus pushed Thetis off of him, standing up quickly and tucking in his shirt. “Brother,” he said annoyed, “you could have called ahead of time.”

“Sorry,” Hades responded, “It was just there was no one at the front desk to let you know I was here, so I wasn’t sure what to do.” Zeus glared at Hades, ushering Thetis out of the room.

“So, I’m assuming you’re here about that Apollo business, yes?” Zeus heaved a dramatic sigh. Hades heard Persephone’s soft footsteps approaching and she stepped into the room. “Ah, here she is,” Zeus said. “Well, alright, let’s get this over with.” Hades narrowed his eyes at his stupid younger brother. His urge to hit him a softly simmering boil. _Restrain yourself_.

Zeus gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk, and Hades and Persephone sat down. Zeus took a seat at his desk, and steepled his fingers together, elbows on the table, scrutinizing Persephone curiously. She looked very uncomfortable. 

“So, Persephone, Goddess of Spring,” Zeus began, very businesslike, “I have heard Apollo’s description of the events that occurred last night. Please tell me, in your own words, what happened.”

Persephone shot a quick look at Hades, before turning her focus on Zeus. “Last night, Hades dropped me off after dinner, and Apollo was waiting for me. He wanted to talk to me but I didn’t really want to talk to him, so Hades asked him to leave. Apollo was refusing to leave, so Hades called Poseidon and they left for the Mortal Realm.” Zeus cast a glance at his brother.

“Apollo was being a dick,” Hades said. “He wouldn’t go away. I texted Poseidon that Apollo was looking for someone to join him to try and pick up women in the Mortal Realm, and he was there within seconds.” Hades shrugged. “I figured he’d keep him occupied all night, but apparently I was wrong.”

“Very well,” Zeus said. Then, to Persephone, “Please continue.”

Persephone cleared her throat. “I went to bed, and, um, I woke up because Apollo was, um, in my room. He was sitting on my bed.”

Hades tried to keep his expression neutral, but he was getting upset. He didn’t yet know the details of everything that transpired between him dropping her off and arriving in her room upon being summoned. But he knew those details were filled with Persephone’s fear, and it was going to be very difficult to keep his anger in check.

“And?” Zeus prompted.

“And,” she hesitated before forging ahead. “And, he tried to kiss me.” Hades’ blue knuckles were turning white as he clenched them in his lap.

“I didn’t….I didn’t want to kiss him, and I asked him to leave. Um, I asked him to leave a couple of times. But he wouldn’t. He got angrier. He, um, he smacked me across the face, knocking me to the ground. I tried to crawl to the door, but he dragged me back.”

Persephone’s voice was low, her eyes cast downwards. Hades could tell how difficult and painful this was to recount. Her voice was still hoarse from the attack, her neck still bruised, her face still marked. Zeus’ face was impassive.

“Apollo took my hair and wrapped it around my neck,” she continued, crossing her arms protectively around herself. “I couldn’t breathe. He had me pushed down to the floor and I think he was...I think he was about to...a-assault me.” Hades noted that Persephone still couldn’t say the word “rape.” 

“That was when I hit the ground twice to summon Hades. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“I see,” Zeus said. “And Hades? What is your account of this?” He turned to his brother. 

“When I arrived, I saw the scene as Persephone describes—Apollo had her hair wrapped around her neck and he was pinning her to the ground. I immediately apprehended him, restrained him, and called Hecate to come help. I then took Persephone with me to the Underworld.” 

“I see,” Zeus said again. “And what about the lyre?” 

Persephone’s head shot up and she met Zeus’ gaze. “What _about_ the lyre?” she asked. 

Zeus sat back a bit, his mouth a thin line of distaste at Persephone’s tone.

“You are being accused by Apollo of stealing his lyre. It was discovered in your room. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Persephone squared her shoulders and said, “I did take his lyre. Last night, before he left with Poseidon. I took his lyre from his car.” 

“Apollo says it’s been missing for a week.”

“Well, then, Apollo is lying.” Persephone’s anger was rising. Hades saw a vine growing from the top of her head down her back. “I will confess that I took his lyre, but I only took it last night and it was barely in my possession before he came into my room and attacked me!” 

“Do you not think it is appropriate for a god to use force to take back that which was stolen from him?” Zeus asked her.

“I don’t believe Apollo knew the lyre was missing, or that he suspected I took it. It’s not a topic that came up while he was trying to _kiss_ me.”

Zeus heaved a great sigh. “Well, this is a pickle.”

“A _pickle_?” Hades said incredulously. “Look at her injuries!” 

Zeus nodded to Persephone. “I see them. Apollo had injuries as well.” 

Hades scoffed. “Yes, from me, I’m sure. When I saw what he was doing to Persephone, I threw him against a wall and bound him. I wasn’t gentle.” 

“Yes,” Zeus acknowledged, “but he also had injuries unique to Persephone. His arms were scratched up, from her vines.” He nodded his head towards her hair, which had steadily been growing vines since Zeus first mentioned the lyre. 

“Apollo has a few cuts, is what you’re saying.” Hades shook his head in disbelief. “That’s hardly proportionate to the injuries he inflicted on Persephone. To what he was planning on doing before I got there.”

“Look,” Zeus turned fully to Hades now. “Apollo is an Olympian. His sacred object was stolen and he went to retrieve it. Regardless of the seriousness of his injuries, we are still dealing with the fact that a B-grade goddess attacked an Olympian. She’s a thief and well outside her rights to inflict damage on a god of Apollo’s pedigree.”

“I was defending myself!” Persephone wailed in disbelief. “Apollo was attacking me! I didn’t scratch him on purpose, I was just trying to get away.” 

“This whole thing is turning into a he-said/she-said situation,” Zeus said dispassionately. “And, unless you can give me a _very_ good reason why you would take Apollo’s lyre, I have to side with Apollo. He out-ranks you.”

Persephone had her hands in her lap, and she looked down at them. The silence stretched for a long time, as Zeus waited for her to provide an explanation for the lyre. He was growing impatient. 

“Well?” he pressed. “Are you going to tell me why you took his lyre or not?” He was shaking his head at Hades, as though to say, “Can you believe this crap?”

“I took it because...because I was angry with him.” 

Zeus let out an exasperated sigh. “Alright and _why_ were you angry with him?”

Persephone had once again wrapped her arms protectively around herself. Hades longed to pull her to him, to comfort her, to cradle the back of her head and hold her to his chest, his heartbeat a reassurance of his presence, his purpose, his love. He watched her carefully, wondering if she would be able to say what Apollo had done to her. _He_ certainly couldn’t say it; it was not his place. It was Persephone’s story to tell, when she was ready. The problem was that if and when she was ready to share, it could be too late. 

And even if she could lift her face right now, look Zeus square in the eyes, and say, “Apollo raped me,” Hades truly wasn’t sure how much of a difference that would make. Realizing that he doubted his own brother’s morals in the face of sexual assault was deeply disturbing to him and yet, he had no idea how Zeus would react to that information. Status, wealth, power, and reputation were very important to Zeus. If it got out that an Olympian raped a goddess, the daughter of Demeter and a descendant of the Six Traitor’s Dynasty no less, people would doubt Zeus’ power to protect the people of Olympus, and his ability to select Olympians. Zeus was clearly impatient with Persephone, and lacking empathy. His stupid brother barely had to suffer a day in his life, no wonder he couldn’t fathom someone else’s pain, or understand why it mattered. He was a petulant child, and he looked thoroughly inconvenienced to be sitting here doing his own damn job. 

Zeus pinched the bridge of his nose, as Persephone’s silence continued. “Persephone. If you don’t tell me why you were angry with Apollo, I will have no choice but to believe what he said--that you are jealous of his powers.”

Tears were silently falling from Persephone’s face as she turned to Hades. She shook her head slightly, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. She stared into his eyes pleadingly, and didn’t break her gaze as she said, “I can’t. I can’t say it.” Hades grasped her hand and squeezed, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Zeus was looking annoyedly back and forth between Persephone and Hades. 

“You can’t.” He said, “Very well. Persephone, because my brother is...fond...of you, I am going to be lenient with you. I can see your injuries and tell you are upset and in pain. I think that is a fair punishment to stealing an Olympian’s sacred object, yes? So, as long as you promise to never do it again, I will let you off the hook.”

“What?!” Hades roared, shooting up out of his seat and slamming his hand down on the desk. “Are you _kidding me, Zeus?!_ How can you possibly say those two things are equal? How can you look at her injuries and tell her she _deserved_ them?” Hades eyes were crimson.

Zeus merely shrugged. “What would you have me do, _brother_? She’s a B-grade goddess. He’s an Olympian.” He leaned around his brother to speak to Persephone. “You’re lucky I’m not making this punishment worse, you know?” She stood up and ran from the room. “You’re welcome!” he called sardonically after her.

Hades grabbed the front of his brother’s shirt and pulled him in so their faces were almost touching. “You little _shit_.” Thunder cracked outside, and Hades could hear rain pouring down from the sky.

“Careful, brother,” Zeus said quietly, “lest you forget who you’re talking to here.”

“Oh yes, the big, mighty King of the Gods. You ass! Y’know,” said Hades through his gritted teeth, “I have never once wanted your job, though it is my birthright. I was fine handing it over to you, not that I had much of a choice. But this? This right here? This makes me regret _ever_ letting you take the throne. You are a disgrace.” He released his grip on Zeus, shoving him backwards. Zeus straightened his jacket, smoothed down his hair.

“It’s best you leave now, Hades,” Zeus said calmly. Lightning bolts lit up the sky, flashing strobe-like. Hades gave his brother one last look, then turned on his heel and stomped out of his office.


	8. Bunny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Hades storms out of Zeus’ office, Hera shows up to tell Zeus exactly what she thinks.

No sooner had Hades stormed out of Zeus’ office than Hera appeared with a small  _ fizz.  _ Standing behind Zeus, a lit cigarette in her hand, she said, “You son of a bitch.”

“Gah!” Zeus jumped and turned around to find his wife leaning against the wall behind his desk, regarding him icily. “Well, if it isn’t the love of my life,” Zeus said, dryly.

Hera blew her smoke into the air, her eyes narrowed. She wore a form-fitting, emerald green dress, adorned with a peacock pin, and her golden hair was swept up in a tight, elegant bun. “You can’t possibly deny the truth of my vision now.” She took a long drag on her cigarette. 

Zeus’ face soured. “How did you even know Persephone and Hades were here?”

“I know everything,” she responded, coolly. “Also, Hades texted me. Just now. He was hoping I could talk some sense into you.”

“Ugh!” Zeus threw up his hands in annoyance. “There’s nothing to talk about! She attacked an Olympian. I can’t give her special treatment just because my brother wants to bang that goddess. I think I was pretty lenient, considering she desecrated his lyre.” Zeus shrugged. The longer he talked, the more he could always convince himself of his rightness.

Hera glided past Zeus and sat down at his desk, leaning back in his chair. “Sit,” she ordered. Zeus begrudgingly plopped into the chair opposite her. Their relationship was perhaps the most complicated one in all of Olympus. They loved each other deeply, had frequent, (often angry) passionate sex, and shared their opinions freely. They also hated each other a lot of the time, and Zeus screwed anything within a 10 foot radius—his nymph secretary being his current favorite. The irony that the Goddess of Marriage had no control over her own was not lost on Hera, nor was the fact that the first family was perhaps the most dysfunctional in all the Pantheon.

Zeus’ electric temper was matched only by the quiet storm inside Hera. Where Zeus expressed his rage and displeasure in lightning bolts and thunder claps, Hera’s was calculated and terrifying, biding its time until a scathing remark or a cutting glance of deep loathing could completely destroy a person—all with never a single hair falling out of place.

Hera leaned forward, her elbows on the desk, her wide eyes boring into his. “First of all,” she said, “Hades doesn’t want to  _ bang that goddess. _ Hades loves her.” Zeus’ eyebrows shot up and he spun around, as though he was looking for this love Hera spoke of. Before he could say anything, Hera continued. “It’s new, and maybe he doesn’t even know it yet. But as the Goddess of Marriage, I can sense these things. Those two are a match, and it’s only a matter of time.” 

Zeus opened his mouth to speak but Hera talked over him. “Second of all, now we have confirmation that my vision was correct. Apollo  _ is  _ the one who harmed Persephone. I had suspected it but now I have no doubt.” 

Zeus straightened in his chair. “Persephone didn’t say anything about rape.”

“Well, of course she wouldn’t.” Hera stubbed out her cigarette and materialized another one, looking at her husband with disgust. “What could possibly compel her to share something so traumatic when the king of the gods isn’t even on her side over an attack? She came to you for help and you completely dismissed her. Your behavior told her all she needed to know about the kind of justice she could expect to receive.”

Zeus twisted in discomfort, as his wife continued, “That goddess is 19 years old, and has been sexually assaulted by a man more powerful than she is. A wonder boy, who  _ you  _ put on a pedestal. Add to that that she is a candidate for TGOEM—her scholarship dependent on her eternal virginity.” Hera was getting increasingly more heated, her voice raising as she went on. “Her life is turned upside down, her plans for the future have been foiled. She has a king in her corner in Hades, and even  _ he  _ couldn’t convince you to see reason. How much trauma can one person handle, Zeus?!” 

“Alright, alright!” Zeus shouted, stopping just short of putting his hands over his ears to drown out the unpleasant truths his wife was throwing at him. “I can’t go back on my ruling on the lyre. But if Persephone accuses Apollo of rape, then...then I will put him on trial.” Zeus’ voice was reluctant and a little bitter. “But that’s only  _ if  _ Persephone accuses him. Okay?” He was pleading now, begging Hera to be placated so they didn’t have to keep talking about something so unpleasant.

Hera silently regarded Zeus for a long moment before finally saying, “Okay.” She stood up abruptly, straightening her dress. 

Zeus stood up too. “Do you think Hades really loves her, Bunny?” Hera’s face remained impassive at Zeus’ use of her pet name.

She sighed. “Would it matter to you either way?” 

“Of course it would!” Zeus was taken aback that Hera could ask such a thing. “I love my brother and I want him to be happy.” 

“Then prove it!” Hera snapped. “Do the honorable thing for once in your life, and then leave your brother alone to find his happiness. No teasing, or interfering, or making him doubt himself.” 

Zeus frowned, looking towards the portrait on his wall; a painting of the three brother kings. Zeus looked proud, Poseidon looked happy, and Hades looked...he looked sad. Perhaps Zeus had never considered that before—had never really looked at his big brother enough to see inside him. Zeus didn’t like things that were unpleasant; Hades’ sadness inconvenienced him, and so he simply pretended it wasn’t there.

Still gazing at the portrait, he said, “You’re going to get involved, aren’t you, Hera?” He was annoyed, and yet already resigning himself to the headache that his life was about to become. His wife simply gave him a wry smile, before disappearing from his office with a  _ fizz. _


	9. Sickle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone learns something very interesting about her mother and the titanomachy.

Persephone found herself in a courtyard, staring up at a fountain that was flowing freely, the water falling heavily, drowning out any surrounding sounds. It was a large circular pool, the bottom littered with coins of drachma, wishes placed at Zeus’ feet that Persephone knew emphatically would never come true. He probably came out and collected the coins, the hopes of the people of Olympus, and used them for his own selfish gains.

Jutting up from the center of the fountain, huge and ornate and golden, was a statue of Pegasus, the divine winged stallion--yet another creature Zeus took advantage of. Pegasus belonged to Poseidon, yet Zeus used him to carry his lightning bolts. Persephone suspected Pegasus was just one of many who did the dirty work for Zeus while he took all the credit. She can’t believe she was naive enough to think that Zeus stood for honor and justice. She was quite certain now that he knew little of conquering tyrants.

The statue was reared up on its hind legs, its wings unfurled, its front legs pointing majestically towards the clouds, as though it were poised to leap into them. Fountain water poured from its mouth. 

_ Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised,  _ Persephone thought.  _ Did I really think this would go differently? That there would be fairness anywhere in Olympus _ ? The sun was so bright, overheating her skin to the point of discomfort, and she hated it. Her eyes were slits as she tried to keep them open under the harsh glare of what Apollo dragged around. She desperately wished for the cool, misty shade of the Underworld, a place where Apollo could never get to, and where she wouldn’t feel like he was literally  _ everywhere _ . If Apollo was light, Persephone wanted only darkness, constantly. She wanted to go home.

Staring up at Pegasus, she knew for certain the Underworld was her home now. 

She felt a soft tap on her shoulder and she turned to see Hades, his hand covering his eyes against the oppressive brightness. Peresephone realized, too late, that she should have texted him to let him know where she was. She had run from Zeus’ office in a daze, trying to put as much distance between herself and Zeus as possible, but she didn’t get far--she could see the entrance to the headquarters of Olympus just a little ways away. 

Hades and Persephone stood looking at each other sadly, and Persephone shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s it then,” she said. Her voice was hollow. 

“Persephone,” Hades started, but she spoke over him. 

“Let’s just go,” she said dully. Hades nodded and held out his hand to her. She took it without looking at him and in a moment they were standing in Hades’ entryway, several of his dogs coming over curiously to greet them, clearly unused to anyone being there this time of day. 

Before Hades could say anything, Persephone walked towards the guest room where she slept the night before. Cerberus was at her heels, following her into the room. She slammed the door, harder than she would have liked, but couldn’t bring herself to care. 

She fell onto the bed, fully clothed, pulling the corner of the blanket up until it folded over her. She wasn’t sure how long she laid there, staring blankly at the wall, her mind just white noise. At some point, she heard Hades softly knock on the door, calling her name once. She wanted to find the urge to respond, to fling open the door and throw herself into his arms, but she felt like she was very far away. Cerberus was sitting up against the door, never taking his eyes off of Persephone. She turned over in bed, pulling the covers up over her head, as though she could hide there forever. Hades didn’t knock again, and eventually she let unconsciousness overpower her.

*

“Kore? Kore, honey, where are you?” 

Persephone was sprawled on the ground, covered in mud, her body aching. Her mother was calling to her, but she couldn’t seem to get her limbs to cooperate. She rolled out of the dirt, sitting up, and saw a greenhouse in the distance. 

“Korrre?” Her mother crooned her name, beckoning her, searching for her. Persephone found herself on her feet, limping towards the greenhouse. When she got there, her mother was looking at her impassively. 

“Oh, Kore,” Demeter sighed. “Don’t you see what happens when you put your trust in men?” She pointed to the open door of the greenhouse, giving her daughter a small push towards it. “They will always disappoint you, and that’s the  _ best _ you can hope for. Now get in, before I lose my temper.” 

Persephone found she didn’t care. She willingly walked into the greenhouse, and shut the door in her mother’s face.

Thunder rumbled all around them, menacing and foreboding. Great cracks of lightning lit up the sky, and rain poured down. Her mother was banging on the door. “Kore! Let me in! I’m getting soaked!”

Persephone stared dispassionately at her mother, whose mortal garb was heavily drenched, her purple hair going limp from the weight of the water.

“I can’t let you in, Mama,” Persephone said.

“Kore? Why not?” Her mother shouted over the thunder and the rain.

“BECAUSE MY NAME’S NOT KORE, IT’S PERSEPHONE!” She shrieked. She could barely register her mother’s look of surprise before a lightning bolt shot down out of the sky, impaling Persephone right through the heart. 

*

Persephone shot up in bed, gasping and clutching her chest in terror. Her cheeks were stained with tears and she was sweating and panting. Cerberus barked, walking over to her and licking her hands. 

_ Another dream. It was just a dream,  _ Persephone told herself, willing her breaths to even out. She was in the Underworld, at Hades’ house, and she was safe. She looked down and realized she was still wearing her clothes and her shoes, her dress wrinkled and twisted, her bra digging into her skin. She felt extremely uncomfortable.

She pulled off her shoes, thinking of the night she met Hades after the party; he had told her if she slept with her shoes on her feet would get sores. 

_ Hades _ , she thought sadly. Hades had done nothing but help her from the moment she summoned him--he let her into his home, comforted her, defended her to his brother. And how had she repaid him? By slamming a door in his face. She was so angry at herself right now. Hades didn’t deserve to be punished because Persephone was sad and upset. She needed to find him to apologize. 

She got up and rummaged through the bag that she had hastily packed, pulling out a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. Peeling off the clothes she had fallen asleep in, she changed into the comfortable garb. She checked her phone: It was 8 in the evening. 

In the bathroom attached to the guest room, she washed her makeup off and twisted her hair into two buns on top of her head, little wisps of curls framing her face. She felt a lot better, and she opened the door to the guest room to go find Hades, and practically stepped on top of a pile of dogs.

They had all been laying there outside the room, seemingly waiting for her to come out. Persephone counted five of them (plus Cerberus), as they all jumped up, touching her with their wet noses, licking her bare feet, standing on their hind legs to put their paws on her, begging for ear scratches. Peresephone giggled, and pushed past them, but they all followed her. 

With Cerberus glued to her side, she led the parade of dogs down the hallway towards Hades’ living room, the dog’s nails click-clacking on the marble floor. 

She found Hades, sitting on the couch, a drink in his hand, Cordon Bleu curled up in his arms. Hades’ living room was a large space, with cathedral ceilings, and a huge fireplace that was currently filled with dancing and crackling flames. A long black, leather couch was accented with deep blue pillows, lush-looking throw blankets draped over the back. A large armchair was tilted towards the fireplace, and, littered throughout were dog beds of various sizes. 

Hades was staring into the fire, the flames casting a light upon his face. He looked tired and troubled, and Persephone felt a pang of guilt. He was so lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed the pink goddess and six dogs enter his room, until Cordon Bleu’s eyes opened and he barked at Persephone.

“Kore!” Hades said in surprise, standing up and walking towards her. “How are you?”

His hair was curled around his ears and had the distinct look of having had hands anxiously raking through it one too many times. The effect made him even more strikingly handsome.

“I’m sorry, Hades,” she replied.

Hades raised his eyebrows. “For what, sweetness?” 

“For...everything,” she said, miserably. “You’ve done nothing but go so far out of your way to help me, and I’ve acted so ungrateful today, and I shouldn’t have shut the door on you, and I shouldn't have shut you out. I’m sorry that I’ve come between you and your brother. You have an Underworld to run and the last thing you need is me and my problems, just some amateur goddess barging in on your life.” Persephone was rambling, talking fast, pink and white petals falling steadily from her hair.

Hades was shaking his head and he finally reached out and grasped her hands. “Kore, stop that.” His tone was gentle. “I don’t want to hear you say those things about yourself. You have done nothing wrong, and I was happy to help you, and I’m so happy you’re here and you’re alright.” Hades’ voice was sincere. “And you didn’t come between me and my brother.”

“You promise?” Persephone asked, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Hades’ hand darted out and caught a tear falling down her cheek.

“I promise.” His voice was husky. He cupped her face lightly, before pulling his hand away, his fingers brushing over the bruises on her neck. 

“Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please, that would be lovely.” Her throat still hurt, and tea would be soothing. 

Hades smiled. “I’ll put some honey in it,” he called over his shoulder as he headed to the kitchen. Persephone grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch, wrapped it around herself, and sat down in the armchair, pulling her legs up, the fire warming her. Cerberus laid down at her feet. Cordon Bleu was still sitting on the couch, giving her the side-eye. She smiled at him anyway—he was just so cute, and she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to share Hades.

Hades was back shortly with a mug of tea, carefully handing it to Persephone before sitting down. Cordon Bleu rearranged himself in his lap, possessive. 

“I’m really sorry about my brother,” Hades said. 

Persephone took a small sip from the tea; the honey coated her throat, pleasantly soothing. 

“It’s not your fault. Now I can see why my mother never liked him,” she mused, taking another sip of tea.

“Yeah,” Hades nodded. “He was dirt in her eyes after the whole castration debacle.”

Persephone choked on her tea. “The  _ what?”  _ She squeaked. 

Hades looked to her in surprise. “The castration. Of Kronos?” He was talking as though he was simply reminding her of something she had forgotten. But Persephone shook her head, completely confused.

“Didn’t...didn’t your mother ever tell you how Kronos was finally defeated?” Hades started to look uncomfortable. 

“No,” Persephone said. “My mother never talked about that. I don’t know anything about the titanomachy beyond what’s in the history books.”

“Oh,” Hades said, dumbfounded. “Oh.” He hesitated.

“Well  _ now  _ you have to tell me!” Persephone burst out. “What  _ castration debacle  _ was my  _ mother  _ involved in?”

“Maybe you should ask her?” Hades said hopefully, clearly trying to get out of telling the story. 

“She’ll never tell me.” Persephone shook her head ruefully. “I asked her about it several times growing up. She always told me that she didn’t fight to bring down a tyrant and build a future, only for her daughter to focus on the past.”

Hades tugged at the back of his hair, clearly uncomfortable.“Yeah. I can’t say I blame her. It’s not a pleasant story.” Persephone waited, staring him down, and Hades squirmed a little under her gaze. “Alright,” he conceded, “the condensed version.” 

“I will accept the condensed version  _ for now _ .” 

The corner of Hades’ mouth twitched upward, amusement in his eyes, and nodded at Persephone’s terms.

“I know what the history books say about the titanomachy,” Hades began, “and they range from pretty vague to fairly embellished. The truth of that war is far more gruesome than the accounts of it. Taking down a tyrant is no clean task.” 

Persephone shivered.

“The story everyone knows is that Zeus plunged his sword into Kronos’ heart, and banished him to Tartarus.”

Persephone nodded; that was the story she was familiar with.

“But that’s only one sixth of the story. The rest of us were there, the Six Traitors. We took him down together. Zeus gets all the glory, but he shouldn’t. That glory should have gone to your mother.”

Persephone had leaned forward, her eyes wide, listening intently. Her mother was known for being fearsome, one of the toughest of the Six Traitors, but beyond that, nothing was ever illuminated. Persephone was finally about to find out just how strong and important her mother was when it came to taking down Kronos. 

“The Six Traitors had a plan to subdue Kronos, and hold him down and weaken him enough to trap him in Tartarus. This is the condensed version, so I won’t get into it,” Hades waved his hand, skipping ahead, “but suffice to say that Hera served as a distraction, while Demeter held down the right leg, Poseidon the left. I had Kronos’ right arm, and Hestia his left arm. Zeus was poised to drive the sword through his chest, but we only had a very small window in which to accomplish this. Remember,” Hades pointed out, “we were all young, and not nearly as powerful as we are now. I was only 19, and I was the oldest of all of us.”

Persephone tried to imagine what it must have been like. She was the same age now as Hades was then. At 19, Hades was taking down an ancient god and liberating the world. Persephone could barely get a handle on her own powers. Her heart started to thump a little harder, thinking about Hades’ strength and bravery.  _ And my mother’s, too _ .

“Well, what ended up happening was that Zeus choked. He hesitated, and couldn’t do it. In that brief moment of hesitation, Kronos yanked up Hera, holding her tightly, crushing her in his hands. That’s when Demeter crawled up Kronos’ leg, took her sickle, and...uh...castrated him.”

Persephone’s mouth was hanging open. “My mother castrated Kronos?” she whispered. 

“Yep,” Hades nodded, making a cutting motion through the air with his arm. “Severed it in one clean stroke. Kronos practically passed out from the pain, and Zeus snapped out of his fear, and drove the sword through Kronos’ heart. Then the six of us trapped him in Tartarus.” Hades shrugged, as though the finale of his story, in which a tyrant was sent to hell by a group of teenagers, wasn’t all that impressive. 

“Zeus gets all the credit,” Hades said. “But, really, it wouldn’t have worked without Demeter’s quick thinking--and her ruthlessness. Her fearlessness. I see a lot of her in you, you know.” Hades blushed, looking away, and so did Persephone. 

“Wow.” She fell back in her armchair, in complete awe of the truth of the titanomachy and her mother. “Just...wow. So, my mother hated Zeus because of that?”

“Well, it certainly didn’t help,” Hades smirked. “After Kronos was destroyed, and we were divvying up the kingdoms, Demeter had a strong case for being Queen of the Gods. She saved Hera. She saved all of us. I was fine with it. Technically, it should have been me, being the oldest. But I could still barely talk, having lost my speech while imprisoned.” Hades said it so casually, but Persephone had a million questions.

“We were just kids,” Hades shrugged. “And Zeus had been groomed since infancy to be the conqueror and thus the king. He was the only one of Kronos’ kids who escaped imprisonment, and he  _ did  _ liberate us. It just sort of fell to him when the war was over.”

Persephone knew that Hades and Poseidon were held captive by Kronos, but she didn’t know the details—no one did.

“Did my mother  _ want  _ to be queen?” Persephone asked.

Hades considered this question. “I think she did, or, she at least wanted the recognition and the proper glory. She was instrumental in taking down Kronos, arguably more so than Zeus. Y’know,” Hades mused, “Zeus is the only one of us that doesn’t have a single scar on his body?”

Persephone shook her head. She knew her mother had scars, three long ones down her back that she never spoke about. She wondered where Hades’ scars were, what they might look like, and how badly he had been hurt. She suddenly felt even more miserable for how she treated Hades earlier; she didn’t know the first thing about Hades’ pain, or how many scars he had on his body...or his soul.

Hades had become pensive, staring into the fire, absentmindedly stroking Cordon Bleu, his mind centuries in the past. 

“Hades?”

“Hm?” Persephone’s voice broke his reverie. 

“How did Kronos imprison you and Poseidon?” Persephone asked her question cautiously, hoping that she wasn’t being too presumptuous, opening old wounds, asking Hades something so personal that he may have no desire whatsoever to share with this amateur goddess. 

Persephone thought she saw something like panic in Hades’ eyes when he looked at her. “Persephone...I-“

Hades’ was interrupted by the chime of a doorbell. They both jumped in surprise, and Hades stood up and headed towards the door, all of the dogs running to greet whoever it was. 

Hades swung open the door. 

It was Hera.


	10. Reputation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera visits Persephone to convince her to publicly accuse Apollo of his crimes.

It was well-known amongst the beings of the Pantheon, that no one could command a room quite like Hera. Even before Zeus put a crown on her head, Hera had always been a queen, walking into every room like she was the best thing to ever happen to its inhabitants. Which was typically the case. 

And so it was as she entered into Hades’ home, gliding in without invitation, her impossibly high black heels clicking on the floor. She was grace personified, her golden skin shimmering and gleaming, even in the darkness of the Underworld. Her hair was swept up into an impeccable bun, her dress without a single wrinkle. Persephone gaped at her, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She was incredibly aware of her casual clothes and her hair falling out of the buns she had twisted onto her head earlier. She stood up quickly, and resisted a bizarre urge to bow to this immaculate queen.

Hera waltzed right over to Persephone, and gently took her chin in her gloved hand, examining the bruises on her neck. “Oh, little dove,” Hera breathed. 

Persephone met Hera’s bright, cerulean blue eyes fleetingly before looking away in discomfort; the Queen of the Gods made her nervous. She shivered, despite the roaring fire that had just moments ago been such a relaxing comfort to her.

Hera let her hand fall from Persephone’s face.

“Persephone,” she began, but then stopped, casting her eyes towards Hades, who was still standing awkwardly by the door. “Hades, the women are speaking.” She waved her hand, shooing him away.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, ducking out of the room quickly. Persephone bit her lower lip to hide a little grin—even the King of the Underworld was intimidated by Hera, and it was amusing to see him follow her orders.

All of the dogs were still hanging around, their excitement from the doorbell ringing having turned to curiosity of this golden goddess in their midst. She gave one sweeping, disdainful look at the group as a whole, and they went running, poor little Fudge with his tail between his short little legs. 

“Persephone, child.” Hera took a seat and patted the couch for Persephone to join her. “I know what Apollo has done to you.”

As she sat down, Persephone’s hand went instinctively to the bruises on her throat, but Hera continued, “I know  _ everything  _ he’s done to you.” 

Persephone drew back in surprise. “But, how?” she rasped.

“I don’t know if you are aware,” said Hera, “but I have the gift of visions. Or, perhaps it’s more accurate to say the burden. That day that you came to my home and I assigned you your role in the Underworld...when I shook your hand as you left, I had a vision. I knew that someone had harmed you.”

She continued to look at Hera in shock. 

“I’ve spent the last week trying to deduce who it was, so that I could help you. My visions aren’t always correct, but they usually are. I am sorry that I have failed you. I should have come to you with my vision, and offered my help and my protection.”

Persephone wasn’t sure what to say.

“Well, thank you, Hera, I appreciate that.”

Hera nodded, a pained look on her face. “After the events of last night, I know now that Apollo is the one who I saw in my vision. And I’m here tonight, Persephone, to encourage you to come forward and accuse him of the crimes he has committed.”

She balked, shrinking backwards from Hera and folding in on herself slightly. 

“Your Majesty, I can’t...I can’t do that. And even if I could, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t work. He’s untouchable.”

“It’s true that Apollo is very powerful,” Hera conceded. “But not more powerful than me. You have the King of the Underworld and the Queen of the Gods on your side now.”

“But I don’t have the King of the Gods on my side,” Persephone pointed out, her voice small and bitter. “And isn’t that the only side that really matters?”

Hera considered her for a long moment. “What matters in Olympus is reputation. Without it, gods are nobody. The court of public opinion has a power of its own. And for too long, we have operated under the misguided logic that the smallest chance a man may be falsely accused is more damaging than the consequences of remaining silent. Perhaps if I had acted sooner on my suspicions, there would be no bruises on your neck tonight, little dove.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then reached forward and clasped Persephone’s hands in her own. 

“Persephone,” she said. “We cannot let Apollo get away with his crimes. He  _ will  _ hurt someone else. Who knows how many others he has hurt before you? Men like him do not do such a thing only once. If you come forward and accuse Apollo of rape, he  _ will  _ be put on trial.”

Persephone yanked her hands away from Hera at the word “rape.” Every time her brain tried to label what happened to her as...as  _ that _ ...she began to panic. Why couldn't she say it? Why couldn't she hear others say it? Why couldn’t she even  _ think  _ it? Words had power, and to speak them out loud made something real. And she couldn’t stand the thought of this being any more real.

Hera didn’t try to reach for Persephone’s hands again, but her face held compassion. 

“Persephone, I can’t tell you what to do. But I urge you to consider a trial.”

“And then what?” Persephone asked, harshly. “Suppose I do, and he still gets away with it? Then everybody will know what he did to me and no one will care! And the only thing I can think of that’s worse than Apollo getting away with this, is for everyone to believe me, to know that I’m telling the truth, and continue to worship him anyway! Apollo has taken  _ so much  _ from me, and he’ll take my worth, too? He’ll get to publicly define what I am to all of Olympus! The second I open my mouth, I lose control of the narrative! And it’s a narrative I can’t even bring myself to  _ speak  _ right now!”

Red and black rose petals cascaded down Persephone’s hair, falling from her growing curls. 

“You are telling me how important reputation is.  _ My  _ reputation can be ruined by this. And  _ that  _ is  _ not justice. _ ”

Hera’s voice was grave as she said, “Apollo has already accused you of stealing his lyre with nefarious intentions, and Zeus ruled upon that accusation. The seeds are already sown. Is there anything else that Apollo might have on you? Because I am certain that he will try to ruin you. I’ve known him his entire existence, and he has always been an entitled, narcissistic brat. He will not go away quietly.”

Persephone opened her mouth, an angry retort right at the tip of her tongue, but froze.  _ The pictures. _ Apollo had taken those pictures of her, and she had no idea what had become of them. He must still have them. Would he use them? Suppose he did...then her reputation would be ruined anyway, in new and terrible ways. 

Hera lept at Persephone’s momentary hesitation. “My husband,” she drawled, “is an  _ idiot.”  _ Persephone’s eyes widened a bit—it wasn’t every day one heard the King of the Gods slandered in such a way...though she couldn’t say she disagreed. “But,” Hera went on, “he has agreed to hold a trial, if you accuse Apollo of rape.”

Persephone put her hands over her face, rubbing her forehead. She was suddenly extremely tired, and she wanted this conversation to be over. But she pushed on. 

“Okay,” she said, exhausted. “Suppose I  _ do _ , then what? What happens? What should I expect?”

Hera nodded, businesslike. “Once you make the accusation, Apollo will be put on trial... _ public  _ trial.”

“What does that mean?” Persephone asked warily, already guessing the answer.

“It means that it will be publicly known that Apollo has been accused of this crime. An Olympian? There will be reporters. There will be spectators. You will need to give testimony to Zeus, and you may call witnesses during that testimony. Apollo will have the same courtesy extended to him. Zeus will ask questions of you and your witnesses. After Zeus hears your arguments, he will make his ruling and decide upon punishment.

“I’m going to be frank with you, dear. You would be taking an immense risk. It could be that, at most, all you could hope for is a facsimile of justice much like today—acknowledgement that a crime occurred, but little to no punishment.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” Persephone said through clenched teeth, “this is not encouraging me to come forward.”

“I understand. But I want you to know that I don’t think Apollo will take what happened last night lying down. I don’t doubt that he feels slighted that you were not punished for the business with his lyre. He will try to retaliate, and the best course of action may be to get out ahead of it and tell your truth.” 

Persephone cast her gaze towards the fire, the crackling flames dancing across her features. She knew Hera was correct. Apollo lived in his own twisted version of reality; one where he was adored unanimously throughout the realms, where she was his blessedly lucky girlfriend, and where she stole his lyre out of petty jealousy. It was insulting and disrespectful and, yes, as Persephone sat there, seething, she knew this could not stand.

And yet, she still sat in silence, even in the face of certainty. How could she go up against Apollo and his evil untruths, when he believed them so conclusively? When she couldn’t even bring herself to label the crime, constantly choking on it, afraid of it, suffocated under the weight of four simple letters?

Hera’s eyes burned with a righteous fury, and her voice was low and fierce. “I think Apollo has done this to women before you and I think he will do it to women after you. He must be stopped. I’m asking you to consider being the one to try to stop him.

“You are a formidable goddess. Your powers may be erratic right now, but that’s only because they haven’t been encouraged or fostered properly. With the right allies in your corner, you can grow to be one of the greatest among us. You have that within you. Don’t let some shitty little sun god hold you back.” 

Persephone understood what Hera was saying. There was likely no safety in silence. If she chose to not act, it might not matter anyway, because Apollo almost certainly would. He was arrogant enough to push this further and believe he’d get away with it. She thought about how Apollo had been stalking her, keeping her in this constant state of anxiety. She thought about how he’d already convinced Artemis to accept his version of events. How much farther was his reach? How many people in Olympus could he get to also turn on her? 

Hera watched Persephone as though she could see the struggle within her. “Please just tell me you’ll think about it,” she said gently.

Persephone met Hera’s eyes and nodded. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

Hera squeezed Persephone’s hand and stood up, smoothing her dress. “Hades!” she called, a tinkling lilt to her voice. “You can stop lurking back there.” 

Hades’ head poked out from around a corner. “I wasn’t lurking,” he insisted and Persephone noted that he was a bad liar. She stifled a giggle. 

Hera glided to the door, opened it, then turned to narrow her eyes at Hades. “I trust you’ll look out for her.” 

“O-of course,” he stammered under Hera’s penetrating gaze. She nodded, seemingly satisfied. 

“Goodbye then.”

She disappeared from the entryway with a  _ fizz _ . 

“I don’t know why she bothered to open the door if she was just going to transfer out of here,” Hades muttered, shutting and locking the front door. He turned towards Persephone. “Everything alright?”

Persephone shook her head a little. “Not really. Hera gave me a lot to think about though. Do you want me to tell you about it, or did you hear everything we said?” She grinned wryly at Hades, who looked guilty.

“What would be the correct answer?” He smirked. This time, Persephone did giggle, and with it she felt some of the tension ease out of her. 

“100% scoundrel,” she teased. “It’s okay that you were listening. I was going to tell you whatever she said anyway.” 

Hades looked pleased that Persephone had intended to include him in this, that she wasn’t going to shut him out. Persephone knew that earlier, she had slammed the last door she’d ever slam in Hades’ face. He was her friend, and she needed him in her corner. 

***

Hades ordered pizza to be delivered, and the two of them sat sprawled out in front of the fireplace, talking and eating. JP sidled up, eyeing the crusts, doing a terrible job at being inconspicuous. Together, they finished off the whole box, the fire crackling merrily behind them. Persephone gave JP a kiss on his head as penance for no table scraps, and he pranced off quite pleased with himself. Hades laughed. 

“So, do you think I should do it?” Persephone asked Hades, pulling the conversation back to Hera’s visit. 

Hades considered. “I think Hera’s assessment of the situation is correct. I think that Apollo probably will attempt to destroy your reputation.”

“But hasn’t he  _ won?”  _ she asked, incredulous. “He’s not punished, and he faces no consequences. If he’s Zeus’ little wonder boy, and Zeus thinks justice was served, why wouldn’t Apollo?”

“Because Apollo has been humiliated. Not just with the lyre, but with you rejecting him.”

“So you’re saying that, in his mind, if he can’t have me, then no one can?”

Hades nodded. “Yes, I think that’s probably the case.”

She heaved a deep sigh. “I just don’t know, Hades. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, look, you don’t have to decide tonight,” he said soothingly. “It’s okay to take some time to think about this. It’s a big deal. Hera was right; it will be a spectacle. And…” he hesitated. “And the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood would find out, as would your mother.” 

Persephone nodded glumly; she knew that was another consequence of coming forward. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed that all of the risks were on her. Apollo could come out of this unscathed, but Persephone’s planned future would be destroyed, no matter what. 

“My mother will be so disappointed,” she murmured. “She really had her heart set on me joining TGOEM.”

“Did  _ you _ ?” Hades asked, nervously. “I’m sorry. That was a blunt question. But...is that what you really wanted?”

She gazed into the fire. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I had doubts. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it’s not for me, but I have to honor the terms of my scholarship. Hestia and my mother have been grooming me for this since I was 14. I’d be letting everyone down. But now, I feel like the decision has been made for me. I no longer meet the requirements: I’m not a virgin. And I’ve been accepting their money for school, based on a lie.”

“Kore.” Hades’ eyes were soft. “You’re not being fair to yourself. This isn’t your fault. A lot of choices were taken from you.”

“I just feel like...I don’t know if TGOEM was ever even really  _ my  _ choice. I think my mother has just tried to convince me that it was.” She paused, then, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you think I was a fertility goddess? That day, when I wound up in Tower 4, you assumed that I was. Why?”

Hades cleared his throat, blushing a little. “Well, fertility goddesses create life. You grew a forest in a place where  _ nothing  _ is supposed to be able to grow. That’s more than just flowers and springtime. That’s birth. That’s life from death.”

She shifted uncomfortably at those words, but Hades didn’t notice. 

“I think my mother has been lying to me,” she said. “I think you’re right, and that I am a fertility goddess. But I don’t know why she’d keep something like that from me. That’s my identity, and instead of allowing me to embrace it, she kept it secret and tried to force me into a life that is a contradiction to what I am and who I’m supposed to be. 

“I know that if I want any answers then I’m going to have to ask her. I just don’t know how to talk to her, not after this. I’m afraid to tell her what happened to me. I’m afraid she’ll never look at me the same again.”

“Hey,” he reached out his hand and lightly brushed hers. “Demeter and I aren’t exactly each other’s biggest fans, but I  _ know  _ how fiercely she loves, and the lengths she would go to to protect the ones she cares about. I don’t know why she’s been lying to you about your identity, but I suspect she had a reason that, in her mind, was a very good one. It doesn’t make it okay. But I don’t question, for one second, that she would ever stop loving you. Not for this. Not for anything.”

Was that true? Did her mother believe she was protecting Persephone somehow by lying about her being a fertility goddess? Did Demeter convince herself of a narrative that fit her reality, much like Apollo had done? 

She gave Hades a watery smile, realizing that he might just be her best friend. “You’re really great, y’know that?”

“Hah! I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me in my entire existence.” 

She grinned, but her expression sobered upon realizing he was being serious. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m not very well-liked,” he shrugged. “King of the Underworld, God of the Dead. People fear me. Mortals don’t worship me. Even the citizens of the Underworld avoid me when they can. It’s like they’re afraid to meet my eyes. I  _ stink of death _ .” 

“Hades!” Persephone admonished. “That’s unequivocally untrue! Who would ever say such a thing to you? You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.” 

He blushed at the sincerity of her words, and Persephone could tell that, for some strange reason, he was resisting the truth in them. She was dumbfounded. “Hades, you  _ do not  _ stink of death. You smell really good, actually.” 

He quirked an eyebrow at that, and now it was Persephone’s turn to blush. The words had just slipped out, and she hoped futilely that she just looked flushed from the fire, but she knew from the amused expression on Hades’ face that he could tell. 

“I smell good, huh?” he teased. “What, exactly, do I smell like?”

Persephone yanked her sweatshirt over her head in embarrassment, groaning. Hades laughed, a genuine, warm, happy laugh. She spoke, her voice muffled by the fabric as she hid her face. 

“You smell like a forest fire in winter,” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Like a forest fire in winter,” she repeated, though not making an effort to say it any louder. 

“One more time, I still can’t hear you.” He was giggling.

Persephone pulled the sweatshirt down, revealing her burning face. “I said, you smell like a forest fire in winter!” She had covered her eyes with her hands, but peeked out behind them when she finished. 

Hades considered her words. “Interesting,” he mused. “That’s still death though,” he pointed out, but his voice was mild, not hurt or offended, merely curious. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Fire destroys forests, killing trees and plants.”

“Well, yes, but, the thing about that,” she smiled, “is that I can bring them back to life. So I can just watch the flames in awe, all of my senses overwhelmed by the beauty in the destruction. And then heal it.”

Hades held her gaze intently, and Persephone’s heart hammered in her chest. She cleared her throat, awkwardly. “I’m really thirsty, do you have any juice?”

“Uh, um, uh yes, in my fridge. I’ll go get you some.” He made to stand, but she had already jumped up, saying quickly that she would go grab it. 

“Do you want some?” she called over her shoulder.

“Sure,” he replied.

Persephone hurried into the kitchen and flung open the refrigerator door, sticking her head inside and resting it against the cool interior. The shelf of food stung under her burning cheek but, good gods, what was she thinking?  _ Stupid, stupid. He has a partner, dummy.  _

She closed her eyes, mortified, taking a few deep breaths _.  _ When she opened them, something stared back at her.  _ That’s weird _ . She lifted up a ziplock bag filled with ice, and peered inside.

“Um, Hades?” she called. 

Yeah?” Hades called back.

She walked out of the kitchen, and held the bag up. “Why do you have an eyeball in your refrigerator?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta, Myth_is_a_Mirror!


	11. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and Persephone return the reporter’s eye, and Persephone learns more about how justice differs between realms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to the incomparable dearprongs, for being my beta for this chapter.

Hades sat staring at the fire, trying to calm his pounding heart. _The way that she looked at me,_ he thought, confused and overwhelmed. Persephone had just told him that he _smelled good,_ that she saw beauty in destruction, and that she could heal burned and broken and dead things. _She had been talking about forest fires, right?_ It certainly started out that way. But by the end, Hades couldn’t help but feel that she was talking about more than just plants and trees. 

_Like me,_ he thought. _A dead and broken thing like me._

The sheer contrast of Persephone insisting without a shadow of a doubt that he smelled good—smelled like something she saw beauty in—against Minthe’s cold and cutting statement that he smelled like death was astonishing. Hades hadn’t realized how he had internalized Minthe’s words, so much that he had added them to a long list of reasons why he was worthless and unlovable. How many things had Minthe said to him over the years that he unknowingly used as barriers in order to keep beings away from him for their own good? For their own safety? 

It was simply too much to unpack right now. He already felt guilty that he had enjoyed the evening he and Persephone just had, considering the circumstances of her presence at his house. They had talked and joked and shared pizza, and Persephone had confided in him; she truly wanted his advice. This was all so foreign to him, this healthy feeling of friendship, and he realized as he gathered up the pizza box and began cleaning up from dinner that, besides Hecate, he had never had a true friend before in his life. He had his brothers and their wives, his nieces and his nephews, but they hardly counted as friends because they were family. Hades loved his family, but they were absolutely dysfunctional.

Hades found himself marveling in this revelation that Persephone was a genuine friend, when she interrupted his thoughts by calling him from the kitchen.

“Hades?”

“Yeah?”

She stepped out, a ziplock bag in her hand. “Why do you have an eyeball in your refrigerator?”

Hades squinted at the bag. “Oh,” he said, recognizing its contents. “Sorry, I forgot that was in there.” 

Persephone stared at him. “But, why is it in there?” she asked, nonplussed.

He shrugged. “I planned to feed it to Cerberus, and just forgot.” Cerberus shot Hades a look that clearly said, _Leave me out of this._ “Did you find the juice? I have pomegranate juice and I think orange, too.”

She narrowed her eyes, ignoring his question. “You were going to feed your dog this eyeball?” She shook the bag, the ice cubes shifting inside. 

“Yep.” 

“But...whose eyeball is this?” Persephone looked baffled, like she’d never seen an eyeball in a fridge before. 

“Oh, that’s the reporter’s eye,” Hades said, with a casual wave of his hand. “Y’know, the guy that took those pictures of us and published that false story about you—”

“ _WHAT?!”_ Persephone squeaked and dropped the bag. The eyeball bounced right back into the air and Hades caught it. 

“Whoops,” he smiled sympathetically. “Careful, eyes can be quite bouncy.” 

“HADES!”

Suddenly it dawned on him that something was wrong, though he wasn’t sure what. He looked from the bag in his hand to Persephone’s appalled face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to gross you out.”

“I’m not grossed out, Hades, I’m horrified! Why is the reporter’s eye in your refrigerator and not, y’know, _in his head?_ ”

He wasn’t sure why Persephone needed it spelled out for her. “Because I tore it out.” 

“You _TORE IT OUT?!”_ she shouted. 

“Yes,” he nodded. “As punishment for the article.” Now he was really confused. “Wait, Persephone, what’s going on here? You seem upset.”

She balled up her little fists, her whole body tense. “I’m not _upset_. I’m LIVID!” 

“ _Livid?_ But, why? That man published lies about you and put your reputation at risk. A lesson needed to be taught.”

She threw her hands up in frustration, shaking her head. “Again with reputation? You and Hera both! You talk about my reputation like you know what’s best for me, like I can’t make these decisions myself! I _told you_ to let that article go. I _told you_ it didn’t matter. But you went behind my back and did this anyway in the name of _my_ reputation. Did you ever stop to think that this could _hurt_ my reputation?”

Hades was starting to panic a little bit inside. This was _not_ the response he expected to receive. He thought it would please her that he took care of it, that he enacted punishment. 

“Persephone” he said carefully, “this was justice.”

He realized immediately that this was the absolute wrong thing to say. Persephone’s mouth fell open and tears were suddenly streaming down her face. “Don’t talk to me about justice,” she said harshly. 

_Oh no,_ Hades thought. _Shit. Shit shit shit!_ He hurt her. His actions really, really hurt her. 

“Kore, please don’t cry,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Can I please explain? Please?” He felt himself sweating a little bit in nervous desperation. Persephone wiped the frustrated tears from her eyes, and Hades felt as if he were impaled on his own bident— _he_ caused those tears. 

“Fine. Explain.” She wouldn’t look at him, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Hades had to fix this, he had to. 

“Yes, I tore out his eye,” Hades said cautiously. “And yes, it was punishment for the article. He came onto my private property, took photos of us, and published them with lies. He disrespected you. He called you a ‘minx’ and claimed you were ‘sleeping your way to the top.’’

“Yes,” Persephone retorted, waspishly, “I also read the article, Hades!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He held up his hands, placatingly. “What I need you to understand, though, is that I am King. It is my job to set rules and enforce them and maintain control of the realm and its inhabitants. I can’t let something like this slide, or I wouldn’t be doing my job.”

“What rules did he break?” she asked.

“Well, trespassing, for starters.”

“And?”

“And…” _Shit_. That was it. Technically, taking pictures and publishing an article, even a false one, wasn’t actually breaking any laws or rules.

She nodded bitterly. “And that’s what the King of the Underworld calls ‘justice’? Tearing out an eye for a reporter trespassing on your property?”

Hades felt like a complete _ass_. “So, I may have...overreacted...a little bit.”

“Yes, I’d say so.” Persephone looked so angry. But more than that, she looked hurt. 

“Kore. You’re right. What I did in the name of justice was not only overkill, but it was in _your_ name, and I should never have acted in your name without your input or consent. I am so sorry. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.” Hades poured sincerity into his words, just hoping that she’d hear how much he meant them, and find it in her incredibly generous heart to forgive him. 

Persephone’s features softened a little bit, her anger dissipating into sadness. She stood there, bruised and in pain, trying to heal from a brutal attack from which she received no justice, and grappling with the decision of whether to share with the entire Pantheon that she was raped. And now, on top of it all, she learned that Hades committed an act of wrath in her name, against her wishes, without her knowledge. He hated himself. 

“Thank you, Hades,” she responded. “I appreciate that. And I accept your apology on _one condition_.” 

Hades breathed a sigh of relief, feeling tension ease out of his shoulders. “Yes, anything, whatever you want.”

“I want you to go give that man his eye back. _Right now_.” 

Hades bit the inside of his cheek. Now they were talking about _his_ reputation. How could he maintain being the fearless ruler of the Underworld, if it was known that he returned an eye, thus implying that he was wrong in his actions? It undermined his authority. 

But he had just promised Persephone he’d do anything to make it right with her, and so he would. Even if it meant taking a hit as a King and going back on his ruling. _His_ reputation could withstand it. If he was being honest with himself, he still didn’t really believe that what he did was unjustified, but supposed he could concede that it was a little over-the-top. It was yet another strange sensation—this feeling of friendship, of caring about someone so much that you’d swallow your pride to make that person happy. Hades was no stranger to sacrificing his dignity—he had dated Minthe for years, after all. But with this, it was different. This felt equal, an exchange. And one that, ultimately, he was willing to do. For her.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, I’ll give him his eye back.”

Persephone let the air out of her lungs, as though she’d been holding her breath. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“Of course,” he said shakily. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm down. “I meant what I said: The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you. I will make this right.” 

***

Persephone wanted to accompany Hades in returning the eye, and Hades agreed to bring her along. He couldn’t help but wonder if she didn’t trust him to comply with her wishes, and wanted to see for herself that he returned it like he said he would. That thought stung. But he couldn’t put words in her mouth. She was involved in this too, and she had the right to see this through to the end. 

The car ride was silent, a little awkward, and Hades was screaming at himself in his head the whole way. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ What a fool he was. 

He drove fast, the neon lights of the city casting halos on the pavement. When they reached the checkpoint from the Underworld into Olympus, Persephone turned to Hades in surprise. “Wait, we’re going to Olympus?”

“Yes, that’s where the reporter is. Alex Petre. He’s at a hospital in Olympus.” He winced internally that he had to admit that he had put this guy in the hospital. Persephone pursed her lips at that news, but didn’t acknowledge it.

“Why wouldn’t he be in a hospital in the Underworld?” she asked.

“He’s a citizen of Olympus,” Hades explained. 

“Oh. But if he’s a citizen of Olympus, then wouldn’t that put Zeus in charge of this?”

“Since the crime was committed in the Underworld, it falls under my jurisdiction, even though Alex is not a citizen in my realm.” 

Hades put his blinker on, turning right towards the heart of the city of Olympus. It was nighttime, but Olympus was illuminated by elegant street lamps that looked like torches, casting a wide and warm glow. 

The City of the Gods was filled with large parks and gardens. The metropolis itself was nothing like the Underworld. There were no skyscrapers, for starters. The buildings were wide, mansion-like, and spread out across large swaths of grassy land, flanked with elegant paths through the greenery, gazebos overlooking trickling streams and brooks. Zeus was fond of ornate, gold-gilded doors, white-paved streets, large statues, and grand, illuminated fountains. The effect at night was quite lovely, everything very clean and bright and calm. It looked _safe_ in Olympus. 

By contrast, people were afraid of the Underworld, with its dark, foreboding buildings touching the sky of an endless night. The neon billboards perhaps harsher than Zeus’ lamp-lined streets, the climate colder than the pleasant clear skies of the Kingdom of the God of all. On the surface, sure, Olympus seemed like the more appealing place to live.

But, of course, looks could be very deceiving. For all of the wealth and pomp and circumstance of Zeus’ realm and his pampered and privileged Olympian’s, very dark crimes occurred in Olympus, with few consequences for those who committed them.

Persephone was staring out the window, lost in thought, and Hades realized vaguely that flowers were blooming in every bush they drove past. He racked his brain for something to say, anything to fill the silence, to make things better, to fix things with Persephone. Her lap held a little cooler, inside of which was the eye, and her hands rested on top of it. Her sweatshirt hid the bruises on her wrist and neck, though the hand print was still fairly prominent on her cheek. Perhaps she could get something to help with that at the hospital. 

“Is that how it works everywhere?” Persephone spoke into the silence. 

“How what works?” It had been a while since either of them had said anything. 

“Punishments between the realms,” she clarified. “If a citizen of the Underworld or the Ocean, say, committed a crime in Olympus, it would be Zeus’ job to take care of it?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And you are all okay with that?” she pressed. “What if one of your citizens was wrongfully accused, or punished unfairly? As the King of the Underworld, isn’t it your _job_ to protect the citizens of your realm? Surely you and your brothers don’t judge every situation the same?”

Hades glanced at her. “Well, no, we don’t. Zeus’ punishments tend to be very cruel and unforgiving; rather dramatic and theatrical. Poseidon is much more lax, but his citizens are pretty laid-back in general; there’s very little crime in the Ocean. Which is surprising, considering the sheer number of beings that reside there. But the culture of the Ocean is pretty, um, _enlightened,_ for lack of a better word.” Hades didn’t really feel like elaborating on that. The Ocean was a realm of light-hearted debauchery—sex parties, casual drug use, a fair bit of raving. They played more than they worked in Poseidon’s realm.

“And you?” Persephone asked. “What are your judgments like? If you rip out an eye for trespassing, what limbs do you tear off for jaywalking?” Her voice was sardonic.

Hades cringed. “Okay, I deserved that.” He sighed, considering her question. “Honestly? I pride myself on being fair and impartial.” She raised her eyebrows at that, but he went on. “I know that the eyeball currently in your lap would suggest otherwise, but that was an extenuating circumstance. I just...lost my temper a little bit over that article.”

They had arrived at the hospital, and Hades pulled into a parking space. He gazed out the window towards the building.

“I spend most of my time overseeing trials, deciding the outcome of the souls that arrive at my gate. It’s a daunting task, measuring a mortal’s life and assigning it value for all of eternity. Forever is a long time to be punished or rewarded. It is not something I take lightly. 

“In the mortal afterlife, one can work in one of my factories, but otherwise exist mostly as they had in life. They can be with their family, their friends, while still contributing to the society of the Underworld. On the other end of the spectrum is Tartarus, with its many levels of gruesome pain. It’s reserved for the most problematic mortals, but the decision to send someone there is...sinister. I _can’t_ let my emotions impact my ruling. I _must_ be fair and balanced. There can’t be any grey area when it comes to eternal damnation. If I were to ever go back on a judgment of a mortal afterlife, it would completely undermine my position as the God of the Dead. The mortals _need_ to fear me; it’s how we encourage them to live lives of kindness and goodness.”

Persephone was rapt with attention. Hades continued, quietly. 

“To be honest, it eats away at my conscience, having to make these choices every single day. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of mortals pass through my gates and I am responsible for them. When I first started this job, I agonized over the right thing to do. I wanted to save everyone. But as mortals pour in from sickness and old age and war and betrayal, there’s no time to let my emotions come into play. I allow every mortal to state their case, and I remain impartial. I have to.

“I extend the same courtesy to my citizens and leave my emotions out of it. In this case, however...I let my emotions dictate my actions. I lost control.”

Finally, Hades looked to Persephone, who had an unreadable expression on her face. A long silence stretched out between them, and Hades wondered if he had made things worse with his explanation. He knew that he was a monster compared to Persephone’s purity and goodness. Her heart was so full, and his was shrivelled, and he’d never been more aware of it than right then at that moment. 

He didn’t want to hear her disappointment. He was sure this was the end of their friendship, now that she knew the reality of his job; how dark it was, how much despair there was in it. How could he ever ask that she expose herself to that? He needed to talk to Hera, get her to transfer Persephone to another internship, out of the Underworld and away from his filth. 

Before she could say anything, Hades turned the car off and unnecessarily pointed out that they had arrived at their destination. Then he got out of the car without another word, and Persephone followed silently. 

The automatic doors of the hospital slid open to let them in, and they were met with a pleasant gust of cool air. The paint of the entryway was a soothing mint green, and various portraits of unicorns lined the wall, interspersed with portraits of Zeus. Hades resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his brother’s narcissism. It was bad enough anyone had to be hospitalized. They had to then stare at his brother’s stupid face while they healed?

They approached the front desk, and Hades asked for Alex Petre’s room.

“Do you have any idea what time it is? Visiting hours are over.” The nymph behind the desk was clearly annoyed. 

“Surely you can make an exception for the King of the Underworld?” Hades drawled, raising his eyebrows. “I’m here to heal him.”

The nymph’s eyes widened, realizing who he was. She glanced at Persephone and then back at Hades, and nodded, giving them Alex’s room number. 

When they entered his room, they found Alex dozing, reclined in his hospital bed. His head was wrapped in bandages, all of his limbs in casts. Persephone didn’t flinch. She walked up to the bed, leaned over the green minotaur, and lightly poked him.

“Alex?” she whispered gently. “Um, Mr. Petre?” 

He didn’t stir, so she poked him harder, and he woke up, flinching. “OW!” he yelled indignantly. “What kind of crappy nurse are you?”

But he must have recognized Persephone instantly, because his remaining eye widened. He cast his glance over to Hades standing at the end of the bed, and screamed. 

“Ahhhh! No! Get him away from me, get him away from me! Get out, both of you!”

“Stop,” Hades commanded. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to help you.”

“Uh uh,” Alex shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want any help either of you have to give.”

“Look,” Hades sighed impatiently, “do you want your stupid eye back or not?” 

Persephone held up the cooler, and Alex glared at it suspiciously. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“It’s not a trick,” Persephone said.

“Why should I believe you?” he shot back, but Hades had enough.

“The only reason you’re getting your eye back is because of this goddess,” he snapped. “You should be thanking her.”

Alex struggled to push himself into a sitting position, clearly in pain. “You really want me to have my eye back?” he asked Persephone.

“Yes. But you shouldn’t tell lies about people or print things that aren’t true.”

Alex stared at her. “Okay, yeah. Fine.”

Persephone looked a little taken aback at Alex’s cold, unapologetic tone. She turned to Hades. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“Yes, but you may want to wait outside. This can get kind of graphic.” He didn’t have to ask twice. Persephone left the room, though Hades suspected it was more to give Alex a bit of a fright for being so rude than it was that she’d be grossed out by what he was about to do.

Hades pulled the eye out of the cooler, and closed his own eyes. He felt a cold run through him, and he gave into the sensation, knowing he was changing; his skin darkening, his scars alight with an ethereal glow, the stars of the universe spreading constellations across his visage. His face elongated, and his teeth grew to sharp points. In primordial form, he was precisely the monster everyone thought him to be—identical in looks to Kronos, the greatest tyrant they had ever known. 

He opened his glowing eyes, and waved his hand in front of Alex’s face, whose eyes glowed too, becoming vacant. Hades turned his palm over and the eye floated above his hand. He guided it slowly back into Alex’s socket, where it squeezed in and settled with a soft _squelch_. He then held his hand over Alex’s face, transferring his energy into restoring the minotaur.

The room glowed an eerie blue, and filled with a damp mist that was really the clouds of heaven summoned there by this ancient god. He pulled his power from the skies, the earth, the seas, from the energy of the Titans long defeated but never gone from existence. When it was all over, Alex’s eye was back, good as new, and his limbs all healed. Hades pulled back from his primordial form, allowing it to dissipate, his skin and body returning to their normal appearance. He snapped his fingers and Alex blinked. 

“Better?” Hades asked. 

Alex stretched out his limbs, examining them. He touched his face gently, passing a hand over his newly-returned eye. “Yes,” he said, in disbelief. “I feel great.” 

“Good.” Hades gave a curt nod. “I’ll have a nurse come in and remove the bandages and discharge you.” He turned to leave. 

“Wait!” Alex called. “That goddess. Please. Tell her I said ‘thank you.’”

Hades nodded again, and walked out of the room.

He found Persephone back in the waiting room, pacing back and forth anxiously. 

“It’s been taken care of,” he said. She jumped at the sound of his voice, not realizing he had walked up to her. “He says ‘thank you.’”

“Oh. Oh, good.” She nodded, still anxious, looking uncomfortable. Hades wasn’t sure what to make of that. 

They walked silently back to the car, but Persephone stopped on the sidewalk. 

“Hades,” she began, her face twisted in distress, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know...what it was like for you. I didn’t know the burden you carry, daily. Have been carrying, for centuries.” She looked so sad. Hades’ mouth parted slightly in surprise. So he hadn’t repulsed her? 

“Kore,” he murmured. “It’s alright. Really.”

“No, it’s not.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what it’s like, to have to make judgments like that. I’m sorry that I was so harsh. I was hurt that you acted in my name. But...I think I understand now why you did. You let your feelings take over, allowing yourself to feel a wrath you deny yourself daily. And it’s unfair of me to hold it against you.”

Hades was not expecting that. He swallowed. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” He cleared his throat, trying to not let emotion overwhelm him. In all of his years as the Unseen One, he felt, for the very first time, that someone was truly looking at him. 

“Thank you, for doing this for me.” Persephone’s eyes were round and sincere. And, as far as Hades was concerned, they were the only eyes in all of space and time that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this didn’t exactly follow the events of the comic. Her flooming flowergasm doesn’t really fit into this story at this moment in time, so Persephone didn’t see Hades’ primordial form and catch all the sexy feels. 
> 
> Also, I had a lot of fun with the eyeball. 
> 
> I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments!


	12. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone is the roommate of the King of the Underworld! While she tries to rearrange her life into some semblance of normalcy, she ponders what to do about Hera’s request. Also, Hades shares the story of how he got his scars.
> 
> Content warning: This chapter includes discussion of trauma and also frank discussions of scars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me FOREVER. You will see that it’s fairly long, but there was a lot I wanted to cover, and I wanted to make sure I did it right! This chapter has a lot of personal significance for me <3 Comments appreciated! :)
> 
> Love and gratitude to the brilliant and inimitable heliosalpha, who I will always consider a friend, no matter what happens.

Hades drove them back to the Underworld in an easy silence. Persephone was incredibly exhausted from this seemingly never-ending day, and she gazed out the car window with heavy lids. The hum of the engine mixed with the pleasant air blowing from the vents only added to her drowsiness, and it was nice to languish in it and forget about all of the difficult decisions that she would have to make. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, imagined that Hades was _hers._ She let herself lean into the fantasy that they were not returning from re-inserting an eyeball, but were instead on their way home from a date. 

What would it be like to go on a date with him? Would they go to the movies? Hold hands? Visit apple orchards in the Mortal Realm? The thought of all of those things made her feel warm inside. But she quickly admonished herself: Hades wasn’t available, he was with Minthe. What were _their_ dates like? He was a King, so he was probably used to fancy restaurants and expensive wines. Did he give her jewels, take her on lavish vacations? This was all starting to hurt. 

She really was a dumb village girl, wasn’t she? How could she fantasize about picking apples with the King of the Underworld? He’d probably die of boredom!

Persephone knew that these thoughts, these fantasies, were not appropriate. And yet, it brought her a sense of peace, just a little bit of escapism. It was comforting to imagine she had a different life, one in which she was loved and protected by the god who had only ever helped her. A god who didn’t take advantage of her when she was drunk in the back of his car. Who came to save her when Apollo was hurting her. And who was willing to go back on his judgment as King to please her. It was easier to get lost in the illusion of that life than it was to think about what Hera had said. 

Would Persephone really have to accuse Apollo, just to get ahead of whatever retaliation he might be planning? Did she have some level of responsibility or obligation? Hera had said Apollo had probably done this to other girls, and would continue to do it, and Persephone suspected that she was correct. But why should _she_ have to lay bare her pain? It wasn’t fair. Why couldn't one of these other alleged victims come forward and do it, instead of her? She realized, sadly, gazing at her reflection in the car window, that if these other women were indeed out there, they couldn’t do it for exactly the same reasons Persephone couldn’t—shame, fear, intimidation. And the risk of not being believed.

When they arrived at the checkpoint into the Underworld, Persephone straightened up, realizing she had expected Hades to take her back to his home, which was rather presumptuous of her. It couldn’t be appropriate or respectful to his relationship for her to keep staying with him. Wouldn’t Minthe be bothered to learn that Persephone had slept in her boyfriend’s home last night? Had dinner with him? Monopolized all of his time these past 24 hours? She cringed in shame thinking of all the moments Hades held her gaze with his smoldering eyes, brushed her cheek tenderly with his fingertips. And now, she’d spent an entire car ride fantasizing about him from the passenger seat. And throughout all of it, barely giving Minthe a second thought. _None of this is okay!_ she yelled at herself. 

“Hades.” Persephone turned her head towards him. He glanced quickly at her before returning his eyes to the road.

“Yes?”

“Um, I can see if I could maybe stay with Eros tonight? Or, I could get a hotel room or something…” Truth be told, Persephone very much wanted to go back to Hades’ house. She couldn’t imagine anywhere in all of the realms where she would be safer from Apollo than within the grounds of the King of the Underworld’s home. With his massive, three-headed dog by her side, and this older and vastly more powerful god right down the hall. 

Hades brow furrowed, looking distressed. “Because of tonight?” he asked. “Because of the eyeball? Do you...no longer feel comfortable with me?” His voice was so miserable, his expression so anxious, and Persephone rushed to assure him.

“Oh, no, Hades it’s not that! I told you, I understand. And I forgive you. You gave him the eye back, it’s over. It’s just...what about Minthe? Wouldn’t she be uncomfortable that we’re spending so much time together?” She felt the heat rising to her face and resisted the urge to tug her sweatshirt up over herself again, to hide the evidence of her embarrassment. 

Hades cleared his throat, and the easy silence of the car ride turned to an awkward one. She could see the tension in his shoulders, his hands gripping the steering wheel perhaps a little harder than before. Finally he said, “Minthe and I...are no longer together.”

This revelation sat in the air between them, while a strange tornado of emotions whirled inside of her. She was perturbed to realize that her first reaction to this news was a blaze of elation. _What a terrible thing to be happy about,_ she scolded herself. When had they broken up? It must have just happened, because they were very much together a few days ago at work. When she was so jealous. 

“Oh,” she said.

 _Oh?_ She wanted to say something to comfort him. Something supportive and understanding. Here was an opportunity to return some of the kindness that Hades bestowed on her in such multitudes. To be a friend. And the only thing she could come up with was _Oh?_

She cleared her throat and tried again. “Hades, I’m so sorry. Do you...do you want to talk about it?”

He glanced at her again, his eyes soft and pained. “Thank you, little goddess, but, no, not tonight.” 

Persephone nodded. “Well, if you ever do...want to talk about it...I want to be a good friend to you. My door is always open.” 

“Would that be the door to my guest room?” Hades teased, attempting to lighten the mood. Persephone giggled.

“Yes, if it’s alright, I’d like to stay another night. It’ll only be temporary until I figure out what to do, I promise, but I really appreciate that you’ve opened your home to me.” 

“Of course, Sweetness, you can stay as long as you’d like.” Hades replied.

He said it so casually, _Sweetness_. He had called her that same name the night of the party, as he tucked her into his guest bed. He’d said it again since then, and Persephone felt a fluttering in her chest each time, but she had always stamped it out, feeling this weight of guilt at a pet name from a god who didn’t belong to her. But now that Persephone knew that Hades was no longer with Minthe, she allowed herself to close her eyes and enjoy, just a little bit, the sound of it on Hades’ lips. She let it roll over her, crashing like a wave into the fantasy she drew upon to escape, drowning out the dull roar of the car’s engine and lulling her to sleep.

***

Blessed as Persephone was with the ichor of the gods, the bruises and marks left on her by Apollo had faded and healed by the morning. She awoke fairly rested, and had barely finished breakfast before Eros came to visit her in the Underworld to give her the name and number of his therapist. After she called and scheduled an appointment, Eros insisted they go shopping for some clothes and shoes better suited to the climate of Hades’ kingdom. He had a good eye (and was also very bossy), so she just let him pick out whatever he wanted. She ended up loving everything he dressed her in, and she found that having new outfits had a positive effect on her: she looked different, in a good way. A fresh look while she tried to move forward.

By afternoon, they were exhausted and found themselves in a cafe in the Underworld. Persephone was already wearing one of her new outfits—light brown boots, dark jeans, and a chunky white sweater with blue stripes. Flanked by shopping bags and sipping smoothies (Eros, strawberry, and Persephone pomegranate), she filled him in on the events of the previous day. He pulled a face at the eyeball story, but otherwise didn’t comment beyond a dramatic, “Yuck!” and his mischievous smile only got wider and wider as she told him about eating pizza with Hades and finding out he had broken up with Minthe. 

But his expression sobered as she shared everything that happened in Zeus’ office, followed by Hera’s visit and insistence that Apollo would retaliate. When Persephone finished, Eros was quiet for a moment, sucking on the straw of his pink smoothie. Finally, he swallowed and said, “My grandfather is an asshole.”

“Huh,” Persephone grunted. “I can’t disagree with you there. He said that he only gave me a lenient sentence because Hades was quote-unquote ‘fond’ of me.” She slumped in her seat. 

“Yeah, well, familial love only goes so far. He wanted to punish me for harboring a mortal in the city, even though I’m in love with her. He doesn’t give a shit about anything but his appearance. Sure, he cares about his family - in his own way - but he wouldn’t hesitate to screw them over to cover his own ass.”

“How _is_ your search for Psyche going?” Persephone asked. “Any new leads?”

“No, nothing,” Eros responded, miserably, dropping his head in his hands. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“You said your mother is teaching you a lesson,” Persephone said thoughtfully. “So she must think it’s something you can figure out. Have there been any new changes in her life that could give you a hint of what she might be talking about? Anything that has changed since she first learned about Psyche?”

Eros considered this. “I mean, she has this new nymph assistant, I think her name is Ampelus. My siblings really like her. But I’m pretty sure my mom just hired her to help her look for my dad in the Mortal Realm.”

“Maybe Ampelus knows something about Psyche,” she offered. 

Eros shrugged, doubtful. “Yeah, maybe.”

“You should ask her. I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose.” He frowned, twisting his straw idly in the dregs of his drink. His troubled expression spoke volumes: it was clear he wasn’t taking her suggestion too seriously.

She didn’t push it. His mood had soured and he was pouting. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry Zeus wasn’t more understanding of your feelings towards Psyche. I get that it’s against the rules for a mortal to be in Olympus, but still.”

Eros scoffed. “Gramps doesn’t give a shit about rules. It’s not like he follows them. There’s supposed to be a rule about not attacking people, but he clearly doesn’t enforce _that_.”

Persephone sucked in air through her teeth in shock. Eros looked appalled at himself **,** dropping the metal straw into his glass, the sharp clattering sound surprising them both. 

“Gods, Persephone, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” He was immediately contrite, taking her hand in his. “I was caught up in my stuff with Psyche and feeling so angry and it just slipped out.”

Persephone stared at the deep red smoothie in her hand. “I still can’t say it,” she said softly. She looked up into Eros’ eyes. “I still can’t say the word.”

“You have an appointment with a therapist, they’ll be able to help you work through that.”

She nodded. “Hera said that Zeus would put Apollo on trial if I accused him of...of the other attack. How can I even do that if I can’t say it? I don’t even understand how she convinced him to agree to that, considering how my first accusation was handled.” 

“Well, grandmother can have an effect on him. She’s pretty terrifying,” he conceded. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she mumbled. “I just want everything to go back to normal. Or start being normal? My entire time in Olympus has been one crazy event after another. Nothing about my life has been normal since I got here.”

“It’s understandable that you need time to figure out what you want to do,” Eros soothed. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.” 

She nodded glumly. 

“So,” he spoke into the silence, leaning in and smirking, “tell me more about this pizza by the firelight.”

***

A week passed, and Persephone started to fall into a more normal routine. Purposefully taking measures to avoid thinking about Hera’s proposal, she instead threw herself back into her schoolwork. While it made her a little nervous to commute to Olympus for class, Cerberus took it upon himself to escort her to and from the University, so she never felt in danger. There were no whispers among her fellow students of any attacks or stolen instruments, so Zeus must have taken measures to ensure that story never made it beyond the walls of his office. None of her classmates even commented on the fact that a giant black dog magically appeared outside their classroom every day, his arrival preceded by a small _pop_. But she supposed Cerberus was intimidating enough to other people that they gave him both a wide and silent berth.

There was no news on the Apollo front. Persephone hadn’t heard from him, or Artemis for that matter, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. For her part, Persephone couldn’t stand the thought of letting her fear take over, so instead of worrying about it, she pushed it to the back of her mind and lulled herself into a false sense of security. 

Her internship provided a welcome distraction. She was always at her best when she was busy, she felt, and with her mornings filled with classes and her afternoons occupied by her duties in the Underworld, she happily sank into the familiar routine of using work as an escape from tackling more challenging feelings. 

She was relieved to see that Hades had no intention of treating her with kid gloves: there was no tiptoeing around her or fawning over her, simply expectations to be met: every day after class, Persephone would go to Tower 1 of Underworld Corp and log shade records in the library, then she’d don her peplos to attend some of the trial. In her role as Shade Coordinator, she was able to see first-hand how the weighing of mortal souls in the Underworld worked. 

Persephone made every effort to not gape at Hades in his chiton, but it was not easy. His white hair, worn long in the typical style of the mortals, was stark against the black of his robe, and he looked powerful and imposing on his throne. These observations were not relevant to her job, and only served to distract her from the tasks at hand, but she couldn’t stop herself from finding him incredibly handsome.

True to what Hades told her in the car, he remained neutral and fair throughout each shade trial. His face held no expression, but he was clearly listening carefully. His tone was balanced and measured as he passed down his judgment, and his only break in composure was once when he caught her eye between one of the trials, and a blush colored his cheeks for just a moment.

Persephone’s work day ended much sooner than Hades’, so he had a key made for her so that she could come and go as she pleased. She marveled in the strangeness of essentially being the roommate of the King of the Underworld, yet, at the same time, it felt easy. She loved having someone to spend time with in the evenings. The fact that that person was Hades was icing on the cake. They joked in their normal dynamic, but also co-existed in comfortable silences—Hades reading or answering emails, Persephone cuddling with the dogs or doing her homework.

They talked about all sorts of things, like volcanoes and gelato flavors and their favorite parts of Sicily. They laughed at videos of unlikely animal friendships, and Persephone regaled him with stories of growing up in the Mortal Realm. She asked him a bunch of questions about the Underworld—how he built it, what sorts of businesses there were, how many beings called it home, what it was like for the shades who existed there, what did Styx do after work—and Hades answered each one, bemused at her keen interest. 

Persephone started to teach Hades about plants, excited that he was showing any curiosity about her domain. She didn’t think it was every day a god, let alone a king, listened so intently to the mechanics of the job of a B-grade goddess, but he watched her in fascination as she demonstrated her powers for him, and seemed pleased that she had filled the house with flowers. She even grew herbs for them to use in cooking.

For his part, Hades seemed content to listen to Persephone tell him all about her life. Though she shared many stories from her youth, she noticed he was always silent on the topic of his childhood. She didn’t push him, but it made her even more curious to know about his imprisonment by Kronos. Was it a jail cell? Chains? She had seen some scars on his arms when he wore mortal garb at work—they were many and varied and she wracked her brain trying to think of what could have possibly caused that much damage to a god. She desperately wanted to know, though she was too polite to ask, knowing how her mother felt about discussing her own scars from the Titanomachy. 

On Friday, Persephone returned to Hades’ home from her first appointment with her therapist, and she felt emotionally drained. Cerberus was still at work, as was Hades, so she sought comfort in the other dogs. She laid down on the couch, pulling Hades’ throw blankets over her and inhaling his scent. The dogs all squeezed in around her, except of course for Cordon Bleu, who mean mugged her from across the room. She smiled, content even amidst the insanity. She was healing, and she was doing it with the help of her friends. The fact that she felt kind of, sort of, ridiculously in love with one of them? Well, she’d talk about that at her next therapy appointment perhaps. For now, she dozed off into a peaceful nap.

***

Before Persephone was staying with him, Hades couldn’t remember the last time he had made an effort to leave work at a reasonable time, choosing late hours at the office over his empty home and lonely life. But now, he found himself eager to get home so that he could talk to Persephone. He could listen to her talk for hours. He loved how she gesticulated widely with her hands as she explained something, and how flowers of all different colors seemed to endlessly flow from her hair. He was enraptured by the curve of her mouth as she teased him about silly things, and was fascinated by the way her fingers tucked her hair behind her ears when she blushed. 

He felt guilty that he was benefiting so greatly from having her around, considering the circumstances, but he couldn't stop himself from reveling in her company. He was fairly certain at this point that he was desperately in love with her, but he made every effort to mask it and be a friend to her. Though she had spoken about no longer being eligible to join the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood, and about her confusion over her identity as a fertility goddess, Hades had no idea what path she intended to take and, frankly, it wasn’t his business. Did he, deep down, dare to hope breathlessly that she would one day be with him? Sure. But she was his best friend, and there was no way he would do anything to jeopardize that. 

As it approached 5pm on Friday, Hades began to pack up his belongings, bordering on a giddy excitement to rush home and spend time with Persephone. She had her therapy appointment today, so he wanted to make sure she knew he was there for her. He was contemplating placing an order for takeout to bring back to her when Hecate walked into his office, stopping short at seeing Hades preparing to end his work day.

“Are you going home?” she asked, surprised.

Hades froze like he was caught doing something wrong. “Yes…?”

“Wow,” Hecate grinned. “I never thought I’d see the day when the God of the Dead prioritized his life over his work.”

He grimaced, annoyed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“That wasn’t my intention.” She appraised him shrewdly. “This is a _good_ thing, Hades. You’ve never done a good job of taking care of yourself. You don’t eat enough or sleep enough, you typically drink and smoke too much—“

“Can you skip ahead to your point?” he interjected.

Hecate looked amused, but she smiled at him patiently. “Hades, I am very happy to see you giving yourself some consideration. And I think it’s admirable how much you want to be there for Persephone. You know how much I care about her. And I know how much _you_ care about her as well.”

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate?” he asked anxiously. “This arrangement? I’m technically her boss and she just had something terrible happen to her. The optics on this are questionable.”

“Since when do you care about optics?” She smirked.

“Since I met the most important person that has ever existed and she’s living at my house right now and facing something incredibly difficult. I can’t make this situation worse for her.” His shoulders were slumped in self-doubt. 

“I checked in with her yesterday,” Hecate said. “I offered my home up for her as well, if she felt uncomfortable staying with you.” Hades scowled, but Hecate ignored it. “Though I am also her boss, I was her friend first. She said she feels perfectly safe with you. Her exact words were, ‘I wouldn’t feel safer anywhere else than with Cerberus and Hades.’ So, your dog got top billing, but you were a very close second.”

He exhaled a laugh, not realizing he had been holding his breath to hear how Persephone reacted to an offer to stay somewhere else. 

“So, to answer your question,” Hecate shrugged, “yes you’re her boss, but you were her friend first, same as me. And I had no moral qualms about professional boundaries in opening my home to her. And more than that, she _wants_ to stay with you. Well, she wants to stay with Cerberus, but you live there too, so, y’know.” 

Hades couldn’t stop himself from grinning like a fool.

“I know you’re honorable. Maybe just check in with Persephone every once in a while, to make sure she’s still comfortable. If you ask me, she’s exactly where she wants to be right now.”

Hades nodded. He hoped Hecate was right. 

***

Hades unlocked the door, expecting to be greeted by a pack of excited dogs, jumping and barking, but no one came running. He was immediately hit with a delicious, savory smell and, as he hung up his coat, Big John padded over, a flower crown on her head. 

“Persephone?” Hades called.

“In here!”

Hades headed to the kitchen to find Persephone, stirring sauce that was bubbling on the stove top. All of the dogs were there, each one wearing a flower crown, and every one of them looking very pleased with themselves. Cerberus’ crown was the largest and most intricate, woven with giant roses, all various sizes and shades of blue and pink, and he had a very smug look on his face as he stood close to Persephone. Even Cordon Bleu begrudgingly wore a crown of tiny daisies atop his fluffy head. 

Persephone turned at his entrance, a large smile on her face. “Hey!” she greeted him, excitedly. He felt a jolt of happy adrenaline to be on the receiving end of that smile and enthusiasm. His stomach did a little somersault, his heart fluttering.

“Hey, yourself. What are you making, it smells really good.” 

“Pasta with mushrooms and cream sauce.” Mushroom barked and Persephone giggled. “Are you hungry?”

“Sure, that sounds wonderful. But you know, you didn’t have to cook.”

“I know! But I wanted to! I was craving pasta, and it’s nice to have someone else to cook for as well.” She blushed a little, blue flowers springing from her hair.

“Well, at least let me make us some salad.” He smiled, pulling lettuce out of the fridge. _Us_. He needed to remain more vigilant over his emotions and his fantasies, but the domesticity he had been exposed to this past week was a tantalizing taste of something he’d never had but had yearned for, for so long. 

Hades made a salad packed with tomatoes, carrots, celery, quinoa, and sprinkled with blue cheese crumbles, drizzling it with a vinaigrette dressing, as Persephone strained the pasta and stirred in the sauce. He got them both tall glasses of ice water, and they sat down at the table and dug in.

“So,” Persephone began, twirling some pasta around on her fork, “how was work?”

Hades shrugged. “Another day, another dollar.” He grinned rakishly.

“Greedy corporate scoundrel,” she teased. 

“Actually, I had a chance to go over your shade analysis reports. They were great. You bring a level of empathy to the shades that I’m not sure the Underworld has ever seen before. I was particularly impressed with your job placement recommendations.” He took a sip of water, pleased to see Persephone generating pink flowers from her hair, which he had come to realize was a signal that she was happy. “Pulling from their unique skill sets in the Mortal Realm,” he went on, “and translating them into our modern factory work is very smart. It will absolutely increase our efficiency.”

She grinned. “Really?”

“Really,” he agreed. “Based on your suggestions, I’m implementing the Shade Referral and Relocation Initiative. It will be a small task force that decides worker placements, but also reevaluates shades already working in our factories, to see if they are perhaps better suited for a different assignment based on their preexisting skill sets. Along with what they’ve learned since working in the Underworld.” He put a forkful of pasta in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, then said, “I’d like you to spearhead it.”

She gaped at him. “Me?” 

“Yep, you.”

“But I’m just an intern! Do you usually put interns in charge of task forces?” She was anxiously twisting her napkin in her hands.

“Well, no,” he conceded. “But the Underworld/Olympus intern exchange program usually doesn’t yield positive results. Typically, Zeus sends me some entitled kid who calls me ‘dude,’ and doesn’t know how to use a photocopier.” He grinned, but Persephone still looked stricken.

“But wouldn’t this be special treatment? You know I don’t want any special treatment.”

“It’s special treatment insomuch as rewarding employees for their hard work is special treatment. So, no. You’re just doing a really great job, Persephone. Besides, I may be King, but I still have a board of directors. They have to sign off on everything. They liked this idea and signed off immediately. Both on it _and_ you.”

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, and stared at Hades, taking this information in. Finally, she brightened. “Okay!”

“Okay? Great! I’ll work on getting you new business cards. How do you feel about pink embossing?” 

***

After they finished their meal, Hades insisted on cleaning up, but Persephone flitted around him still trying to help anyway. 

“Stop it!” he commanded in a mock stern voice, using a newly-cleaned spatula to gently push her floating body away from the cabinet of Tupperware containers. “You did the cooking, I’ll do the cleaning. As King, I order it to be so.”

She rolled her eyes, and he grinned at her, trying to lean casually on the counter, but accidentally dipping his elbow directly into the saucepan still on the stove.

“Oh, sugar snaps!” he said, yanking his arm up and grabbing a towel.

He froze. 

Persephone’s eyes went wide, and her face lit up with glee as she covered her mouth. In a hushed voice she said, “Did you just -“

“No.”

“Yes, you did, you just said -“

“Nope! No. I didn’t say anything, you heard nothing!”

Persephone was laughing, delighted, doubled over, flower petals softly bursting into the air like handfuls of confetti. Hades blushed furiously. He had heard Persephone say “sugar snaps” as an exclamation enough times that it clearly rubbed off on him, and it just slipped out. He was sure that she would tease him for at least a century about this. 

But there were far worse ways to spend a century, Hades knew.

***

“Aidoneus! Little one? Good morning!” 

Aidoneus awoke, curled up warm in his mother’s palm, two plum pink eyes sparkling down at him. 

“Good morning, my son,” she cooed, stroking his tiny cheek with the tip of her finger. He still felt drowsy, and wanted to close his eyes again, here where it was safe to sleep. So he did. He felt his mother’s warm lips gently press to the top of his head, and he felt so content and unafraid. 

“Rhea!” A voice cracked through the fresh air of the new world, terrifying and immense. Aidoneus felt like it lashed his skin, criss crossing over his body—slashes on his torso, his arms, his thigh. He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t. He tried to move but his body was frozen still. He was so scared he thought he might be sick.

Then he was falling, falling through the air. He landed with a _smack_ into a clawed hand. “Open your eyes _little one_ ,” a voice jeered. He squeezed them shut tight but they flew open of their own accord. Before him was a wide mouth of sharp, pointed teeth, hundreds of them, all of them gleaming like shiny rocks.

“MAMA!” Aidoneus shrieked. But she was gone. His father laughed mirthlessly, and lowered Aidoneus into his mouth, as the little god was powerless to stop it. All he could do was scream.

*

Hades woke with a jolt, flying up in bed. _For Fates’ sake, these fucking dreams._ He thought that he was well past this. How many centuries had to go by before he was no longer haunted by his father? 

The dreams were always different, strange variations of what really happened. Sometimes his mother was there, frozen and passive, and other times she wasn’t there at all. Sometimes Kronos talked to him, belittled him, told him he was a terrible King of the Underworld. Every once in a while, Poseidon was there, watching silently, blankly; an emotionless tiny green figure floating before him.

But whatever the events of the dreams, they always ended the same way: Kronos swallowing Hades, and Hades waking up in a cold sweat. It had been 2,000 years since Zeus freed Hades and Poseidon from their father. 2,000 years since he had learned to talk again, since the gash marks across his body healed, since he finally destroyed his father and threw him into the pits of Tartarus himself. And still the nightmares kept him a prisoner. It didn’t matter that he had escaped; he was still swallowed whole by the memories of entrapment, loneliness, agony, and the certainty of all of the things that made him absolutely unlovable.

He dragged a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes vigorously. He climbed slowly out of bed, his scars somehow tingling, his body aching. He splashed cold water on his face and headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

When he entered the kitchen, Persephone was already there, with her own glass, looking troubled. “Kore!” he said, surprised. He realized at that moment that he was only wearing his underwear and a short black robe, his body on full display - his _scars_ on full display. 

“Hades, hello,” she responded quietly. “Can’t sleep either?”

“Heh, no, nightmare.” He tried to sound casual, shrugging it off, but Persephone was very perceptive. 

“I had a nightmare, too. I can’t remember what it was about, though. But I woke up uneasy, and I came for some water.”

Hades nodded. “Same,” he lied, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water. Joining her at the table, he gulped it down, feeling the cool chill in his throat as he swallowed. Persephone just watched him. 

“Do you...want to talk about your nightmare?” she asked gently.

Hades considered. Was it fair to unload this baggage on her? With everything she was going through, and nightmares of her own that also kept her awake at night, was it right to dump this in her lap, this glimpse into his haunted past? His therapist had told him that he should reach out to people, but he’d never been successful at that. But his therapist also told him that if someone extended their hand, he should take it. Was that what this was? Was Persephone extending her hand?

Before he could stop himself, he said, “I dreamt of my father.”

Her eyes flitted down to the scars across his body, then back up to his face. She had no reaction—not fear or disgust or discomfort. When she looked at him, her face was calm, silently encouraging him to go on.

“My father imprisoned me. And Poseidon.” This was common knowledge, but he never spoke about the details. He recalled she had asked him earlier that week just how they’d been imprisoned, before Hera interrupted them. At the time, he was relieved for Hera’s entrance, because the panic that surged through him upon being asked by this lovely little goddess to tell her the truth about himself was all encompassing and overwhelming. But it didn’t feel so impossible in that moment, here, in his kitchen, with the goddess who had his entire heart, and nightmares of her own.

“My father _swallowed_ me.” He had spoken it. It was out in the air. The energy of his words now existed outside of himself and could never be destroyed, would never dissipate. It was the first time he had ever said it. Of course, the rest of the Six Traitors and the Titans knew the truth, but it’s not as though they got together for reunions and talked about it. He finally allowed the truth to take form as words, and he felt an immense weight lift off of his chest, leaving his lungs along with the sound of a nightmare unburdened. 

Persephone gazed at him, pain in her eyes, tears beading at the corners. “Oh, Hades,” she breathed. 

He felt his own tears straining to fall and he felt ashamed, not wanting to reveal how affected he was, still, after all these years. Instead, he choked them back, and said, “So...yeah.”

“Is that how you got your scars?”

He inhaled deeply. “No. No, the scars came after. The scars are from when I escaped.” He paused. Should he go on? It wasn’t a pleasant story and anyone looking at his scars could see that it was a story of deep pain. He looked to Persephone for guidance and she nodded, encouraging him to go on. _What the hell_ , he thought, _I’ve started this and so I may as well finish it._

“It’s a...long story.” He hesitated. 

“I’ve got time.” The corner of her mouth turned up ever so slightly into a small smile. “I’d like to hear the story, Hades, if you want to tell it.”

He nodded, and began.

“I was the firstborn son of Kronos and Rhea. And there was a prophecy.” She nodded. Gaia’s prophecy, foretelling that Kronos would be destroyed by one of his children, was known by all—gods and mortals alike. They knew that Kronos imprisoned his children, trying to trick Fate.

“My father swallowed me when I was six.”

Persephone gasped. “Six!” Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to fall. She tried to hide them, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. Hades watched her, sadly. Someone was crying for him. Someone was crying for his pain, and he felt a roiling cloud of emotions churning through him—disbelief, comfort, shame, unworthiness, self-loathing. He tried to ignore them, and continued.

“When Poseidon was born, he swallowed him, too. Not right away. He loved my mother enough to let her keep her children, to enjoy them for a little bit before taking them away forever. Poseidon joined me in Kronos’ stomach three years later. I didn’t know he was there, however. We floated silently alone, in the utter darkness of the inside of a Titan.

“But my father didn’t make the same mistake the third time. He planned to swallow Zeus the moment he was born, but my mother tricked him. She wrapped a rock in a blanket, and gave it to Kronos, pretending it was Zeus. He swallowed it immediately, not knowing any different. Zeus was sent away, to be raised by nymphs on the isle of Crete. From infancy, he was primed to be the great liberator. And so he was. 

“Thirteen years after my father swallowed me, Zeus came back to Sicily with a cup of the syrup of ipecac, a potion brewed by Métis, who had been plotting for years to overthrow Kronos.” 

Persephone was listening with rapt attention. Métis was her grandmother, the Titan who created Demeter, Hera, and Hestia from stardust. 

“Kronos drank the syrup,” Hades went on, “and began to choke. He first coughed up the rock. Then Poseidon.”

He paused, watching Persephone. She was no longer crying, though she looked like she wanted to. Hades was coming to the most disturbing part of the story, the most graphic and unsettling. But her face held a fortitude that let him know that she could handle it. And so he took a deep breath and finally exhaled the truth.

“Kronos realized what Zeus had done after choking up Poseidon. But he wouldn’t let that happen with me.” His voice held a bitter edge. “He fought it. He tried to stop me from escaping.

“It was...painful. My body had been floating motionless for 13 years, never unfurling from the fetal position I had bent into when he swallowed me. Suddenly, an immense force was pushing me upwards, immediately followed by another force pushing me back. I couldn’t open my eyes and it was terrifying. It was like being hit over and over by a battering ram. I was sure that Kronos had figured out a way to kill gods, and that this was the end of me. And I...welcomed it.”

Hades whispered that last part in a ragged breath. Persephone reached out her hand and clasped his. 

He stared at their interlocked fingers, afraid to continue. Somehow, just talking about Kronos triggered his fight or flight response, as though merely saying his name would cause his father to burst through the wall at any minute and swallow him again. 

She squeezed his hand, nodding at him to go on, grounding him back to reality. He squeezed back, bolstered by her support. 

“The syrup of ipecac was incredibly powerful. Powerful enough for a Titan to lose control. He couldn’t keep me down. When I...when I reached...his mouth...he kept trying to swallow me again. He...closed his teeth down on me, over and over, trying to keep me from escaping. 

“That’s...that’s what these scars are. The teeth marks of my father, refusing to let me free. But I did get free. And along with my brothers, and Hestia and Hera and Demeter, lead the Titanomachy, fulfilled the prophecy, and liberated the world.”

When Hades finished, he realized Persephone was still holding his hand tightly, and he squeezed it back. She gave him a watery smile. “Can I hug you?” she asked.

Hades was shocked. He had finally told someone the intimate details of what happened to him, and instead of running away or turning her head in disgust, she wanted to _hug_ him. He couldn’t do anything but nod, afraid of the tremor his voice would hold. 

Persephone stood up. At her full height, she was face to face with a seated Hades. She slowly lifted her arms, and wrapped them around him, squeezing. Hades squeezed back, his eyes closed, and they held each other until his heart slowed from its frantic pace, and then even longer after that. 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Hades,” Persephone whispered, her cheek pressed to his. “It wasn’t fair. And you didn’t deserve it.”

Hades took a shuddering breath, feeling as though a vice gripped his heart. No one had ever, _ever_ said that to him. It seemed so simple, a universally accepted truth: of _course_ a six-year-old child didn’t deserve to be swallowed and imprisoned, of _course_ it wasn’t fair. 

And yet, Hades realized at that moment that, subconsciously, what he had always truly believed was that it happened to him because he didn’t matter. And no one stopped it from happening, because he wasn’t worth being saved.

It was one thing for Hades to know, as a man, that what happened to him was wrong. But it was quite another for Aidoneus, the child, to understand that. At six years old, his mother couldn’t save him. He had no context for that, and so what other conclusion could a child come to but that she didn’t try hard enough? That he wasn’t worth the effort?

His tears flowed freely, and he knew that his heart was breaking. For himself. Because for the first time in his entire existence, he finally _believed_ the truth of what happened to him:

It wasn’t fair.

And he didn’t deserve it.

***

They stayed up for a long time, talking. Hades made them both hot chocolate (though Persephone’s was predominantly a cup of mini marshmallows), and he shared stories from his childhood. Albeit, there wasn’t much to remember, but it felt good to talk about it, and to reflect on days spent in the palm of his mother’s hand.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, sipping their warm drinks, Persephone looking pensive. 

“Hades?” 

“Hm?” Hades felt serene, relaxed.

“My mother has scars, too, from the Titanomachy.” 

“I know,” he replied softly.

“She never talks about them,” she continued. “I don’t think it’s shame. It’s not like she covers them up. But she won’t talk about them.”

Hades gave an appreciative grunt. “There’s no way Demeter would be ashamed of scars. But I understand why she wouldn’t want to talk about them.”

Persephone was quiet for a moment. Then, “Were you there? When it happened to her?”

He raised his eyebrows and Persephone said hurriedly, “I’m not asking you to tell me what happened. I know that’s not your place. But...were you there? Did you see it?”

He thought back those centuries ago. Kronos snatching Demeter, claw marks down her back, deep gauges of golden ichor. Kronos had literally _ripped_ her off of him, after Demeter castrated him. Hades had leapt to catch her falling body.

“I was there.” 

She bit her lip, concentrating on the marshmallows in her mug. She seemed to be deciding whether to say what she was thinking. 

“Do you feel ashamed of your scars?”

Hades shook his head. “No,” he said, honestly. He reached towards the open bag of marshmallows that sat between them, grabbing some and popping them in his mouth. “But I don’t really put them on full display if I can help it. Not out of shame just...for the benefit of others.” He shrugged. “It can be disturbing to see a god blemished in such a way.” He gestured to his torso, covered in white scars.

“I’ve thought a lot about it, over the years. My mother’s scars, I mean. I know that they’re the result of great pain, but I’ve always found her scars to be...kind of beautiful.” 

He rested his chin on his hand and looked quizzically at the little goddess, her fuschia skin so stark and wondrous against the infinite night of the Underworld. She seemed to almost glow, bringing an ethereal light to a place of eternal darkness.

“I know that scars are trauma made visible. We can see a person’s pain, the level of their suffering, the memories they must carry. And, perhaps this is naive,” she shrugged, “but when I look at scars, that’s not what I see. I don’t see a person’s pain. At least, not at first. What I see first is...their healing.”

Hades was looking into her eyes, his mouth slightly parted, in awe of the words coming out of her mouth. He clung to them.

“Scars don’t brand us as victims,” she said. “They mark us as survivors.” 

She stared into his eyes for a long time, and Hades felt so seen by her that he was afraid to even blink. 

***

In the centuries to come, the public interest in the royal family would always be as rabid as the morning after the Panathenaea, when an unknown pink goddess left the home of the King of the Underworld. The beings of the pantheon would never tire of buying tabloids with articles of royal scandals, would always be clamoring for interviews with those who ruled the three realms. And Hades’ favorite one would always be an exclusive he granted to the respected journalist, Alex Petre, who asked him to share the moment he knew Persephone was _the one_.

“Tell me,” the interview read, “How did you know that Persephone would be the Queen of the Underworld? Was there a moment that stood out for you? That solidified it for you?”

The article described the King of the Underworld smiling shyly at that, fondly, before answering, “One night, when we were eating marshmallows.” 

There would be many, many articles written about Persephone. But one of them was stopped before it could be printed. And this never-written story set in motion a chain of events in which a queen enacted a vengeance so dreadful, no man would ever dare to hurt her ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked some of the fluff this chapter! I really wanted to include a scene where Hades accidentally says “sugar snaps,” because I love how when you start to get close with someone, you begin to take on some of their mannerisms and sayings. 
> 
> I also really wanted to have Cordon Bleu begrudgingly like his flower crown.


	13. Belladonna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. There have been some personal life struggles these past few weeks. I haven't had a chance to respond to all of the kind comments on my last chapter, but I will! They are always a bright spot in this never-ending quarantine gloom. On a happier note, though, another reason this took so long is because I've been busy the past few months helping to create the fan site Lore Olympians! We launched the end of May, so it's been crazy. Please check it out at www.loreolympians.com. 
> 
> Content warning: Apollo is in this chapter.

_“And we both know all the truth I could tell.” -Kesha, Praying_

Alex Petre arrived at the office of _The Weekly Nark_ early, there before anyone else. As soon as he let himself into the building, he was hit by a wave of nausea, and hurried to the restroom to dry heave over a toilet, glad he had opted to _not_ eat breakfast that morning. He took several deep breaths, wiping sweat off his brow, and walked to the sink to splash cold water on his face. He looked up and gazed at himself in the mirror...with both eyes.

He still felt shaky sometimes, like he had just woken up from a particularly awful nightmare to discover that he was just fine, and it had only been a dream. It had been a week since the King of the Underworld came to the hospital and returned his eye to him, at the behest of that pink goddess, and now he was back at work, fully healed...and conflicted.

It was his first day back since the eye incident, and the thought of facing a room of his coworker’s made him feel sick. All their eyes would be on him, like he was some carnival act, some oddity. They all knew he had lost his eye, but they didn’t know he had it back. What a spectacle it would be when they found out. How could he even explain what happened? 

He took several long, deep breaths, tearing his gaze away from his reflection, afraid of what he saw there. Shame. How was he supposed to do his job now? He worked for a _tabloid_ . The entire point of the magazine was to gather salacious information and disseminate the most bastardized version of it in the most gratuitous way possible. He had always justified it: these were the kings and queens, they were rich and powerful beyond comparison. It was his _right_ to know about their lives, to publish that knowledge for the rest of the realms. They had so much, and beings like Alex had so little.

But now, blinking with his newly-returned eyeball, he was utterly uncomfortable with his job description and wasn’t sure he’d be able to fulfill his role any longer. It wasn’t just that he had been punished, and the fear of retaliation. If anything, his eye being ripped out and his legs broken by a king had immediately made him even more determined to print rumors and exaggerations and do anything in his limited power to take the gods down a peg. But then that goddess, Persephone, insisted he have his eyeball back. He’d never known a god or goddess to be benevolent in his entire life. Especially not to a minotaur, a being barely more than a blip on their radar. 

Sighing heavily, he left the bathroom, the motion-activated lights coming on one by one as he walked down the dark hallway towards his desk. It felt like heading to the gallows. It was barely 6 in the morning, and so eerily quiet, that when he heard the _ding_ of the front door opening, he jumped, skittish, his heart pounding.

A man entered. No, a god. Purple, muscular, in a tight black shirt. Of course he knew who it was. _Fucking Apollo_. Alex gritted his teeth. This should be pleasant. Apollo made a beeline for him, and Alex took a deep breath, making every effort to fix his face and adopt a manner expected of a minotaur when speaking to an Olympian. 

Apollo stopped at Alex’s desk without saying anything, standing there pompously, clearly expecting Alex to speak first. 

“Oh wow!” Alex said, doing his best to sound completely in awe. “You’re Apollo, God of the Sun!”

“And medicine. And music.” He had an arrogant, entitled air about him, and Alex immediately hated him. He’d heard stories about Apollo, the alleged heartthrob and supposedly great Olympian. Alex suspected his reputation was actually quite embellished, probably by Apollo himself. In person, he had a smallness about him. He was aggressively unlikeable, and Alex had no idea what he could possibly want from _The Weekly Nark._ He was interested in keeping all of his limbs intact and his eyes in his head, however, so he acted contrite, groveling. 

“Oh, of course, sir, of course. Medicine and music as well. What...um...what brings you to _The Weekly Nark?_ ” 

“I’m a big fan of your work.” Apollo grinned, showing all of his white teeth. It was off-putting. 

“Is that...is that right?” Alex was getting increasingly nervous. All of this was very strange. “Well, thank you, sir, that’s a huge compliment coming from you.”

“It is,” Apollo agreed. _Fucking Fates_ , Alex thought, taking great efforts to not roll his eyes so soon after getting one back.

He cleared his throat, his hand going instinctively to one of his horns, a gesture of nervousness he’d had since childhood. He scratched the hair at the base. “May I ask specifically what you’re referring to?”

“I loved the story you did on that pink bimbo nymph sleeping her way to the top.” Apollo still had that weird grin on his face.

“Ah.” Alex felt a bead of sweat drip down his back, and his nausea was back in full force. Where was this going? “Now that you mention it, that was actually a misprint. Turns out she is a goddess and not a flower nymph as originally reported. Friend of the King of the Underworld, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“It may be true that she’s not a flower nymph,” Apollo conceded, “But I assure you that she is a bimbo sleeping her way to the top.” He held out a large envelope to Alex, who eyed it nervously. 

“What is that?” he asked, without taking his eyes off of it. 

“Exclusive scoop,” Apollo replied. 

Alex tried to hide his shaking hand as he reluctantly took the envelope from Apollo.

***

**Persephone:** Finishing up class now. I can see Cerby waiting for me from the window :D 

**Hades:** I cannot believe he lets you call him “Cerby.” 

**Persephone:** lol soon you’ll be saying it too. Right along with “sugar snaps”

 **Hades:** That was one time! Will you ever let me live that down?

 **Persephone:** Hm, prob not lol

 **Persephone:** Are you home? I can pick up dinner on the way back. Sushi?

 **Hades:** Sushi sounds great. Let me order delivery. You want the mango avocado rolls?

 **Persephone:** Yes please yum! :) See you soon

Persephone put her phone in her backpack, grinning like a dork. She couldn’t help it. Spending all of her free time with Hades this past week had been amazing. She’d never felt quite so content in her life. School was going really well and her grades were up. She was sleeping much better, hardly any nightmares. And she was planning her exit strategy from TGOEM--a way to leave without needing to reveal that she was now ineligible. As much as she didn’t want to move out of Hades’ home, it would probably be a good idea to find a more permanent place in the Underworld. Maybe Hades could help her look for an apartment. She’d see if she could increase her hours at her internship, maybe get a second job. She wanted to pay Hestia back and move forward with her life.

A life that hopefully included kissing Hades. She thought about kissing him all of the time now. Constantly. It was almost pathetic, but she couldn’t stop herself. His lips looked so soft, and when they curved up into a grin? She was undone. He was so rakish and scoundrel-y one moment, flirting with an easy charm, and so vulnerable and melancholic the next. She wanted every version of him. To be wooed by the devilish air so fitting for the King of the Underworld, and then to cover him, hold him, protect him from his pain and his trauma. 

She hadn’t brought this up with her therapist yet, afraid that they would disapprove, for all the reasons Persephone had worried about: the age difference, the power balance, the separate traumas both were still working through. Plus, Eros mentioned something to her about a “ho phase” being something she should look into before seriously dating. But why? Who said that you have to fix yourself before you can be with someone? Couldn’t it just be that you grow together, support each other through it? She was certainly happier around Hades. She didn’t see how being away from him would help her to find herself. She _was_ herself with him. The best version. She didn’t want to kiss other people. She only wanted to kiss Hades. 

For Hades’ part, he seemed totally oblivious to what surely must be her incredibly obvious feelings. She practically had heart emojis in her eyes when he walked into a room. How did he not put the pieces together that blue flowers sprung from her hair at the sight of him? She chuckled, shaking her head, and ran outside to meet Cerberus. She wrapped her arms around his neck, scratching behind his ears. “Hello, my sweet boy,” she crooned. “Are you ready to go home?” In response, he shoved his snout into her ear, snuffling. She giggled.

Cerberus continued offering himself up to her administrations, greatly enjoying the pets and effusive praise of how very good of a boy he was, when suddenly he alerted to something behind Persephone. She turned around to see a minotaur approaching her, his head down, clutching his shoulder bag close to him and looking nervous and uncomfortable. He stopped in front of her.

“Hello, Miss Persephone.”

“Alex?” Persephone straightened up, surprised, lacing her fingers in Cerberus’ fur. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t answer, just shifted in agitation and avoided looking at her. She eyed him suspiciously, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Oh no, did Hades do something again?” 

Alex’s eyes flew to her face in shock. “No, nothing like that! I’m here to...tell you something.” 

“Me?” She was taken aback. 

“I feel in debt to you, Miss Persephone.”

She waved away the formality of _Miss Persephone_ , laughing a little. “Please, just call me Persephone. And, really, you don’t owe me anything,” she assured him, her voice sincere, “I’m just glad you have your eye back.” Cerberus cautiously wagged his tail, but was still on alert, never taking his eyes off Alex.

“Getting my eye back has...changed my perspective on things,” he nodded. “I’m seeing the world differently now, you could say.” 

They stood staring at each other for a moment. “That,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “was a very lame joke, Mr. Petre.” She giggled and Alex allowed a small smile in agreement, shrugging. 

“Perhaps,” he said scratching the back of his head. “But it’s also true. And this isn’t a joke.” He pulled a large envelope out of his bag and held it out to Persephone. 

She felt her blood run cold, adrenaline coursing through her body. She eyed it in apprehension, realization beginning to dawn on her. “What is that?” she breathed. 

“Pictures,” he said simply.

Persephone swallowed painfully, feeling herself begin to sweat. Waves of nausea were rolling over her. “Where did you get them?” She made every effort to keep her voice even, but she felt on the verge of hysterics.

“Apollo, the Sun God, brought them to me this morning at _The Weekly Nark_.” Alex was holding the envelope as far away from himself as possible, as though it were cursed, as he continued miserably, “He said that he had an exclusive scoop for me. Said these pictures prove you aren’t who you say you are.”

Persephone closed her eyes, her ears ringing. This was it, this was the retaliation. Apollo had taken the photos and given them to a tabloid to publish as a scandal for all the realms to eat up while they drank their coffee over breakfast.

_How dare he._

“Did you look at them?” Persephone asked, her eyes still closed, her tone clipped and barely controlled.

“I didn’t. I swear. I can tell they’re photos, but I didn’t look at them. He said he wanted to take you down a peg. But I want nothing to do with that.” His voice was firm. “So, here, take them.” 

She opened her eyes. From the expression of fear on his face, she suspected they must be red, and she must look terrifying. _Good_. He held the envelope out to her and she snatched it. 

Slowly, she eased open the flap the tiniest bit, and saw all she needed to see. They were the photos of her that Apollo took. The photos he took when he was...

Panic and rage were coursing through her, sending her spiraling. She wanted to tear down the city of Olympus with her bare hands, smash and pulverize the buildings to dust. She wanted to rip up the white paved streets, crush every ornate golden statue until they were nothing but tiny pieces for everyone to choke on. She wanted to torch every tree, kill every plant, destroy every single blade of grass. She wanted to throw herself off a building. She wanted to set the world on fire.

Because it wasn’t _fair._ People just get to live their lives and be _happy?_ Be _free?_ The world was allowed to just continue after Apollo did what he did to her? How was time allowed to just move forward? Why didn’t anyone _care_? Why didn’t anyone protect her? Help her? Save her? Why wasn’t she smarter? Why had she allowed this to happen? Why didn’t she scream? Why hadn’t she insisted that she didn’t want to spend time with Apollo when she met him? Maybe if she had, things would be different. It was her fault, for coming to Olympus, for wanting to be independent. It was her fault for being alive, for being born. If she had never been born, then none of this would have happened. 

Persephone felt a fury unlike anything she’d ever known before. The world seemed to blur and shift, and suddenly, all of the windows of the surrounding buildings exploded, shards of glass flying. One by one, the bushes and flowers as far as the eye could see began to shrivel up and die. From nowhere, a terrible wind gushed over the area, howling. Cerberus barked and grew to his full size, all three heads looking to Persephone for instruction. She felt her hair cascading down past her back, pooling on the ground below her, growing longer and longer and she rose into the air. Red vines like licks of fire swirled around her, becoming sharper the faster they spun. 

She felt her body changing. Leaves were growing down her arms, from her hips, cascading in greens and reds, poisonous plants sprouting from them as they multiplied. And on her head, a flower crown of thorns and deadly nightshade. 

She was vaguely aware that people were running from her, screaming, scrambling to get away. She smiled, realizing she must be fearsome to behold. Her teeth became sharp points. She threw her head back, letting forth a horrible, gut-wrenching scream. 

She burst into hundreds of butterflies and disappeared.

_***_

Persephone had never transferred before. In fact, she hadn’t even realized she had done it until she was standing next to the pegasus fountain outside of Zeus’ office. She wanted to tear its stupid head off and throw it at Zeus’ feet and spit on it. Instead, she whirled around and stomped into his office building, the plants along the paved walkway drying up and turning brown. She didn’t even notice that Cerberus was no longer with her, completely focused on her singular task. 

Ignoring his receptionist, she walked right to Zeus’ office, the door flying open of its own accord. Inside, she found a shocked-looking Zeus, as well as two satyrs in business suits. 

Persephone opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was like her brain forgot the words she needed to speak the truth, as though her throat locked up, trapping her voice. She felt the truth pounding out of her, trying to escape, choking her. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, her hand flying to her throat. Zeus was staring at her, eyebrows raised, anger and annoyance etching lines into his face.

Then suddenly, everywhere, green vines were appearing. They snaked their way through every surface surrounding them, climbing up the walls, draping themselves from the ceiling, wrapping around the legs of the chairs. It was overwhelming, and Persephone was sweating and shaking, the satyrs looking on in alarm, lifting up their legs as though the vines were going to wrap around them next. 

These were the words she couldn't say. This was the twisted truth, uncoiling itself from somewhere deep inside of her. They wanted to come out of her, and Persephone realized, as she watched the vines grow longer and longer, that she wanted them to come out as well. If she spoke the truth, she couldn’t go back. But she couldn’t stay like this either, buried alive by her trauma, suffocated by her guilt and her shame and her heartbreak. 

And the worst part, _the worst part_ , was the idea that Apollo could have such a hold over her. That he could take up any space within her at all. She would not let what he did to her become a part of her. She would not let him get away with this. Damn the consequences of the truth; she couldn’t let her silence strangle her any longer.

The vines opened all around them, and white flowers bloomed. 

And then the words finally came out of her mouth. Every word sharply emphasized, so no one could have any mistake about what she was saying. 

“He raped me! _Apollo raped me_ . God of the Sun, and Medicine, and Music. Apollo the Olympian. _He raped me_.”

The silence of the room was deafening, and Persephone’s body felt heavy. She swayed.

With a soft _poof_ the vines and flowers all floated to the floor. The leaves that had grown on Persephone’s body shed along with them. And moments later, Persephone collapsed, unconscious, falling in a heap onto the floor, her landing cushioned by the plants littered there... by the truth that she finally, finally spoke. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we begin the road to justice. It won't be an easy road, but I think you will be satisfied. 
> 
> Hades will be back next chapter :) There will be fluff.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think <3
> 
> About the title: Belladonna is also known as deadly nightshade.


	14. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone, fresh off of formally accusing Apollo, tells Demeter what happened to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter: There is VERY frank discussion of Persephone's rape. 
> 
> This story is about Persephone's journey - processing what happened to her and seeking justice. Where she is in her journey right now, she has a lot of self-loathing feelings, a lot of guilt and shame. So this chapter has some of that negative self-talk. 
> 
> Her conversation with Demeter is also where she is in her journey now. We don't always react in the best way to information or emotional situations, and that is reflected here.
> 
> Much gratitude and love to my betas: VerdiWithin (of Talisman fame), and HeliosAlpha (of The Brat fame). Did I just name drop my favorite fic writers and tell you that I know them? Yes, and shamelessly.

Persephone’s eyes fluttered open. Above her, Zeus stood smiling, arms crossed over his broad chest, his too-white teeth practically glowing against the purple of his face. His grin was plastered on and unnerving. He wasn’t even blinking. Creepy. 

After a moment, Persephone realized she was looking at a  _ picture _ of Zeus, hanging across from her on a salmon pink wall. And she was lying propped up in a bed, a papery sheet draped over her lap. 

She struggled to get her bearings. Where was she? Her body felt weak and heavy, and a rhythmic beeping sound filled her ears, which were faintly ringing. Her head ached dully, and she felt her pulse throbbing behind her eyes, in tune to the beeping noise punctuating the silence. Her eyes shut again of their own accord, sleep slowly closing in, when it all came rushing back to her. Alex. The pictures. The shattered windows and dead plants. And Zeus. Telling Zeus the truth. 

She bolted upright, and the beeping sound spiked to a frantic pace. A tube of oxygen tickled her nose and she ripped it out, trying to scramble out of the bed, her long hair tangled and wrapped around her limbs.

“Whoa! Hey! It’s okay, slow down, you’re alright!” Blue hands gently clutched her shoulders and she looked up into Hades’ eyes. “It’s alright, Kore, just breathe.” He took a deep breath in and out, encouraging her to do the same. She did, mimicking the slow inhales through the nose, out through the mouth. After several breaths the beeping evened out. 

She was in a hospital, she realized. The beeping sound was her pulse being monitored, the oxygen tube now sitting in her lap still emitting a steady hiss of air. And Hades was here. She felt an overwhelming sense of relief at his presence, followed by an intense surge of fatigue.

She lightly pawed at Hades’ arm, trying to pat him reassuringly, but even that exhausted her. He helped ease her back down onto the pillows, tucking the bed sheet around her. Then he picked up the oxygen tube and gently put it back in place, his knuckles softly brushing her cheek as he made sure it was positioned correctly. Persephone watched his face, willing her heartbeat not to give her away, to not give any hint of how touched she was by his tenderness. 

“What happened?” Persephone finally asked, her voice hoarse. Hades hurried to a table at the foot of the bed, which held a pitcher of water and a stack of plastic cups that matched the salmon pink of the wallpaper. Filling one, he brought it to her and sat on the edge of the bed. She gratefully took it and sipped, the cool water trickling past her lips, soothing her throat as she swallowed. She took a few more sips, while Hades watched her. When she finished, he took the empty cup from her hands. 

“Do you want some more?” he asked, but she shook her head. 

“No, thank you. But, what...happened? Where are we? What are you doing here?”

“We’re at a hospital in Olympus,” he answered, as he disposed of the used cup in a wastebasket. “You collapsed in Zeus’ office and you were brought here to be evaluated. I’m here because Cerberus came to get me.”

Persephone began to recall more clearly the events of the afternoon. Cerberus  _ had _ been with her, until she transferred to Zeus’ office. He went to get Hades?

She scrunched her face in confusion. “How did you know where to go?”

“It’s kind of like being summoned. A little bit,” he explained. “I was at work and Cerberus appeared, barking and growling, trying to tell me something. I put my hand on him and he transferred us to Zeus’ office in Olympus.” He looked at her thoughtfully and said, “You two have...quite a connection. You can summon him.”

Persephone’s mouth parted in surprise. “What? I can?”

Hades nodded. “Mhm. I realized it the night you summoned me. Cerberus appeared out of nowhere several moments before you hit the ground. He can sense your distress and acts accordingly.”

Persephone thought back on the day Cerberus came to her aid, when Apollo picked her up after class, and wouldn’t let her out of his car. She had wondered how he had known to come to her, in massive, drooling, three-headed attack mode, no less. Now, she understood - she had summoned him. She had called him away from guarding the gate to the Underworld! “Wow,” Persephone said, at a loss for words beyond that.

“Wow indeed,” Hades nodded, a small smile flickering across his face. “When he brought me to Zeus’ office, you’d already been taken to the hospital. Zeus explained that you had collapsed after filling his office with vines and flowers.”

Persephone nodded, exhaustion overtaking her again. She was feeling sluggish. She hoped Hades wouldn’t be offended if she fell asleep while he was talking to her. “But...why?” she managed. “Why did I pass out? My whole body aches. Why am I so  _ tired? _ ” 

“I can answer that.” A fire-red daemon in a white doctor’s coat ducked into the room holding a chart and stopping at the foot of her bed. His body was huge and broad, like a boulder, and he had barely fit through the door. “Hello, Persephone, Goddess of Spring.” His voice was cheerful. “I’m Dr. Anatole.” His hair crackled and waved like flames in a light wind, and he emitted a slight heat. Despite his immensity, his small, coal-black eyes were nevertheless soft and kind.

Hades stood up from the bed, making room for the doctor, who nodded at him. “Your Majesty,” he acknowledged politely. “How are you feeling, Ms. Persephone?” the doctor asked, regarding her assessingly.

“I’m very, very tired,” she replied. “And also confused.”

He seemed to be expecting this answer, and he nodded knowingly. “Yes, that is normal,” Dr. Anatole assured her. “You are a young goddess who stretched her powers to the limit.” He glanced at his chart. “It seems you caused windows to explode over on the Olympus University campus, killed all the plants in a 3-mile radius, and then transferred.”

“You did?” Hades asked, surprised. He looked from the doctor to Persephone. “I mean, you transferred?” 

“Yes, she did, which as you know, Your Majesty, is not something a 19-year-old goddess can typically do.” Dr. Anatole turned his attention back to Persephone. “In addition to that, you also exerted great power in filling a room with flowers and vines. That probably wouldn’t be too big of a deal for you but, coupled with everything else, it was too much. You had a massive surge of adrenaline. And, finally, when your body couldn’t take it anymore, it shut you down.

“My diagnosis?” he continued. “You overdid it.”

Persephone was only half-listening, her breathing getting slower and deeper as she inched closer and closer to sleep. She couldn’t recall ever being quite so exhausted before in her life. Hades was saying something to the doctor, and Persephone let her eyes drift shut, succumbing to unconsciousness. 

***

“Oh, and there she goes.” The doctor pointed to Persephone, and Hades turned to see she had fallen asleep. 

“That was fast,” he commented. “She only just woke up!”

Dr. Anatole nodded. “She’ll be very tired for a while. Probably a day, day-and-a-half. She’ll need to rest.” He made some notes on his chart. “I’d like to keep her here for another hour or so for observation. We’ll get her hooked up to some fluids, make sure she’s hydrated before sending her home.” He smiled kindly at Hades. “I think she’ll be just fine,” he said gently. “Her body just needs some time to recuperate.”

Hades nodded and the doctor left. Moments later, a nurse bustled in to put an IV in Persephone. She was deeply asleep, but her face flinched minutely when the needle entered her arm. After the nurse was gone, Hades pulled his chair right up to her bed, and put his hand on hers for a moment, thinking back on the scene he came upon after transferring to his brother’s office.

***

More than anything, Zeus was annoyed. “Did you know about this?” he demanded of Hades the second he appeared. 

“And  _ this _ is…?” he trailed off, turning and taking in the room. Lush greenery littered the floor, white lilies everywhere, some still drifting down from above, where vines snaked their way, criss-crossing over Zeus’ office, tangled in his ceiling fan, draped from every surface. Cerberus was tentatively sniffing them, munching on one before quickly deciding he did not like leaves, letting the pieces fall out of his mouth in disgust. 

“Persephone!” Zeus shot back. “She came here, burst into my office while I was in the middle of a  _ very  _ important meeting, and cried rape!” He pointed at Cerberus. “And don’t let that dog slobber all over my carpet!”

Hades tasted ichor on his tongue as he bit his cheek, his jaw clicking in anger at Zeus’ words. How  _ dare  _ he speak about what happened to Persephone in such flippant terms? She had just done something incredibly brave in accusing Apollo. He wished that he could have been there to see it, to support her. He was very curious as to what made her change her mind.

“Now we have to go through a whole  _ trial _ ,” Zeus complained. “It’s going to be a  _ nightmare _ .” He toed a pile of leaves on the floor. Hades was beyond annoyed. Zeus was  _ pouting,  _ and Hades was no stranger to this behavior from his brother. For centuries, his youngest brother would do this whole routine, fishing for reassurance that he didn’t really deserve. And Hades would always give in for a myriad of reasons—because he was soft, because he was protective, because he didn’t feel like sitting through a torrential thunderstorm. But, this time, he would not baby his brother. 

“I would  _ think _ ,” he seethed, “that you would be more upset that one of your Olympians is a rapist.”

“Alleged,” Zeus waved his hand. “Innocent until proven guilty. I need to be fair and impartial.” He paused. “I know you think I can’t be fair and impartial,” he said softly. 

Zeus waited expectantly for the consolation he was so used to, but Hades said nothing. After an agonizingly long silence, Zeus broke. “Well?” 

“ _ Well _ , what? I’m not going to hold your hand through this, Zeus. You’re a king, this is your job. You rule over the gods, so govern the gods. Do what’s  _ right  _ for once. And if you can’t do that, remember that Persephone is not just a minor goddess. She’s Demeter’s  _ daughter.  _ She’s part of the Six Traitors bloodline. Where does your loyalty really lie?”

Hades could almost see the scales tipping in Zeus’ mind, weighing his unpleasant options. 

Zeus’ thoughts were writ large across his features as he mulled his choices over - Hades could even imagine his prattling internal monologue.  _ If I don’t side with an Olympian, will that look bad for me in the press? But pissing Demeter off will hurt me, too. But...she’s all the way in the Mortal Realm, and she stays there pretty much all of the time - maybe all of this will blow over…  _

Hades rolled his eyes in the long silence. “Don’t hurt yourself by thinking too hard,” he said sardonically. “Also, where is Persephone now?”

“Huh?” Zeus broke from his brooding. “Oh, Olympus Medical Center. She collapsed after creating this freaking jungle in here, and wouldn’t wake up.”

Hades’ eyes flared red, his worried heart racing. “She  _ what? _ ”

***

When Persephone opened her eyes again, the sun was setting, the blinds casting shadows on the floor of the hospital room. Hades was sitting beside her bed, gazing at the sunset, seemingly lost in thought. He was still here. He stayed. She just watched him for a moment, taking in the angles of his jaw, his aquiline nose, his stark white hair swept back. He was so handsome. 

“Hey,” she said. He straightened up and turned to her, smiling. 

“Hey yourself. How are you feeling?” 

“Mm, still tired, but also hungry.” 

Hades laughed. “I can go raid the hospital cafeteria, but I can’t guarantee it will taste any good.”

Persephone stretched, her body a little sore, and let out a deep sigh. “I will literally eat that chair you are sitting in, that’s how hungry I am.”

“Well,” he said seriously, “let’s not let it come to that. I know for a  _ fact  _ that I can find cafeteria food that is tastier than this chair.” He stood up and stretched himself, and Persephone felt her mouth go dry watching his buttoned down shirt cling to his muscles. She had an intense urge to drag him down to taste his mouth instead. 

“I’ll be right back,” he smiled, oblivious to her surging hormones. “I’ll try to be quick. I know it will be hard, but do try to restrain yourself from gnawing on that chair while I’m gone. I’ll need something to sit in.” 

Persephone giggled, feeling her face color the second that her eyes dropped to Hades’ butt as he walked away. 

She felt so calm and relaxed. She knew that things in her life were about to explode, now that she told Zeus what Apollo had done. But at the moment, she was too exhausted to think about it. 

“Kore?” came a voice from the doorway.

Persephone looked up and her mouth fell open. “Mama?” She was shocked to see her mother stride into the room, worry creating lines in her smooth green face. Tall and purple-haired, Persephone’s mother was a commanding goddess, and she struck an authoritative figure in the clean lines of her pantsuit, her hair braided and knotted high on her head, and her signature golden earrings dangling towards her shoulders, swinging back and forth as she hurried to Persephone’s side.

“Mama, what are you doing here?” 

Demeter bent over her daughter and kissed her forehead tenderly, brushing her hair back as she pulled away. She sat down in the chair Hades made Persephone promise she wouldn’t eat, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’m your emergency contact, honey.” Her mother’s voice was a balm, the soothing sound of safety and love. “The doctor said you over-exerted yourself. What happened?”

Persephone bit her lip. “Mama, I have a lot to tell you.” Her voice was soft and sad, her eyes cast downwards. She worried a hangnail on her finger, nervous for what was about to happen, what she simply had to do. 

“Alright.” Demeter’s face was very serious and very worried. 

Persephone gazed into her mother’s kind eyes. She tried to memorize that look, the last time Demeter would ever see her as an innocent girl, an eternal maiden. She swallowed thickly, her throat feeling like it was constricting. She closed her eyes, feeling herself starting to sweat.  _ Get it over with, Kore. You can do it. _

_ Breathe in.  _

_ Breathe out.  _

She opened her eyes, looking directly into her mother’s and said, “Mom, I was raped.” 

She said it calmly, stated it as the fact that it was. It was a lot of other things, much worse things than information, but Persephone couldn’t mince words about it anymore. There was no easy way to say it, so she just said it.

A legion of emotions flitted across Demeter’s face, so quickly changing from one to the other, it was as though they happened all at once. Shock, pain, heartbreak, anger, guilt. She leaned back from the news, as though she was hit with it, momentarily folding in on herself just the tiniest bit, before straightening her spine and steeling her face. She blinked quickly, staunching the flow of tears before it could even start. Not for nothing was Demeter known as the fiercest of the Six Traitors. But Persephone knew that her heart was breaking, and she hated herself for causing that heartbreak. 

Demeter took a deep breath and grabbed Persephone’s hand, holding it gently but firmly in both of her own. “Kore, I love you,” she said.

Persephone released a breath of air, feeling a tightness in her chest ease up. Her mother still loved her, even after this. Even after she was tainted and broken. She closed her eyes - in relief, in agony - and began to sob. 

Her mother sat on the bed, enclosed her in her arms, cradled her and rubbed soothing circles on her back. Demeter rocked her gently. She let her cry. 

Persephone allowed herself to be comforted by her mother, the goddess who brought her into this world. Who held her, crying and shaking just like this at different moments throughout her life. She inhaled her earthy scent and let her mother be her mother, and she let herself be only a daughter in that moment. A child, awoken from a nightmare, in need of a parent’s comfort.

She cried until no more tears would come, and took in a deep, shuddering breath. Demeter wiped Persephone’s tears from her face, and smoothed her hair back behind her ears. She stood up and tucked Persephone’s blankets around her, and then sat back in the chair by the bed. She wiped tears away from her own eyes, too. 

“You don’t hate me?” Persephone needed the reassurance.

“Of  _ course  _ I don’t hate you.” And Demeter poured so much tenderness and honesty into her words that Persephone could never doubt that she meant them. “Of course I don’t,” she repeated, firmly.

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“Of course I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the situation and I’m angry about what happened to you, but I’m not, and never would be mad at  _ you _ .” 

Persephone knew that her mother was telling her the truth, but she doubted, all the same. She felt chained to her doubt - wrapped up in its heavy links and held prisoner, like Prometheus to his rock. How could anyone still love her? How could anyone not be disappointed in her? 

She looked to her mother, and Demeter’s face hardened. Her mouth opened and uttered one word, her voice low and ragged and terrifying: “ _ Who? _ ”

Persephone shivered. “Apollo,” she whispered. 

Demeter closed her eyes and turned her head, taking a deep breath. She was deathly silent for a long moment, her face expressionless. Finally, she turned back to Persephone. “Artemis’ brother?” Her voice was chillingly cold. 

Persephone nodded. “Yes, he was over at the house.” She could see that Demeter was working hard to control her expression, maintaining a neutral look as her daughter told her everything that had happened. Her mother remained silent, listening, while a fire began to slowly build in her eyes, its blaze making tears impossible. 

“I killed all the plants,” Persephone said, arriving at the details of what happened earlier. “I didn’t mean to, but I did, and I smashed all the windows in the area. And then I transferred, without even realizing it, to Zeus’ office. And I marched in and I told him that Apollo raped me. And now he’s going to be put on trial. And I’m going to tell...I’m going to tell everyone what he did. I’m not going to let him get away with this.” 

Demeter regarded her daughter for a long moment with fierce pride. “Good,” she said firmly. “Good. Give him hell.” 

Persephone held her mother’s gaze, and nodded.

At that moment, Hades breezed into the room, his hands full. “Mmkay, so, I found these pudding cups. They had chocolate and vanilla, but I wasn’t sure what flavor you wanted so I just brought five of each. Demeter!” Hades finally noticed the goddess, and dropped all 10 pudding cups on the floor, one busting open and splattering vanilla pudding on his shoes. “W-w-what are you doing here?” he stammered.

“I think the better question is, what are  _ you _ doing here, Aidoneus?” The green goddess’ eyes were narrowed at Hades in dislike. 

“Aidoneus?” Persephone was confused.

“Aidoneus, Hades, whatever he calls himself these days,” Demeter waved her hand. “ _ What _ are you doing here?” 

Hades was very clearly nervous. “Oh, um, well...you see, I -”

Persephone rescued Hades from his stammering, pretty sure she saw sweat beginning to form on his brow. “He’s here because he’s my friend, Mama. We’re friends.”

“You’re  _ friends? _ ” Demeter’s voice was incredulous. “How do you even know each other?”

Persephone winced internally. Her mother was  _ really  _ not going to like this. “I’m an intern at Underworld Corp?”

“You’re  _ what?  _ How?  _ Why?” _

Persephone squirmed, uncomfortable. “Yes, an intern. Hera assigned me, and I don’t know why, she said I wasn’t being challenged enough.”

Demeter looked baffled. “Well, I’ll talk to Hera and straighten this out. You’ll come back to the Mortal Realm with me.”

Persephone furrowed her eyebrows. “What? No.” 

“I don’t want you staying with Artemis if her brother is the one who did this.”

Persephone bit her lip. “I’m not...I’m not staying with Artemis right now.”

Demeter narrowed her eyes, and turned her head suspiciously towards Hades. “Then where are you staying?” Her voice was tightly controlled.

Hades’ eyes were sheer panic. It would be laughable if Demeter weren’t so terrifying. He cleared his throat. “She’s staying with m -”

From behind her mother’s back, Persephone shook her head frantically at Hades.

“ -mm...mm! I mean  _ in _ . She’s staying  _ in _ , um, one of my penthouses. Rent free!”

Demeter crossed her arms and stared Hades down.

“Because we-we’re friends. And she’s an employee of Underworld Corp and a goddess of pedigree, and also we’re friends, so, I just, y’know, I thought…cause we’re friends...” Hades babbled, gesturing wildly at nothing with his hands, as though he could pull from thin air the way to make Demeter stop glaring at him like that.

Persephone jumped in. “Yep! Everything he says is true!” It came out unnaturally chipper and a little too loud.

Demeter looked at her daughter skeptically. “Ugh, okay, whatever. I don’t like -” she pointed back and forth between Hades and Persephone, “ -  _ thi _ s _.  _ But it doesn’t matter, you’ll come home to the Mortal Realm with me, and you won’t have to suffer under the  _ hospitality _ of the Underworld for a moment longer.” Demeter snorted in disdain. 

“No, I’m not coming back with you.” She hated how small her voice was, how softly the words came out.

“Ko - Persephone,” her mother forced a smile. “I’m not going to argue with you. You’re not safe here. People took advantage of you here. That’s my fault, I never should have let you come to this wretched place. But I can keep you safe at home.”

Persephone felt herself flush with a wave of hot anger. Her mother wanted to take her  _ back _ ? After  _ everything _ ? After surviving not one, but two, attacks from Apollo, after carving a little piece of life out for herself in the Underworld? She was going to therapy and attending class, and she stood up to Zeus, and she was in love, and she was going to make Apollo  _ pay  _ for what he did to her, and her mother wanted to pluck her back and hide her away like she was a  _ child _ ?

_ “Absolutely not, _ ” Persephone said, deathly serious, puncturing every syllable like the sting of a bee.

“Excuse me?”

“I will  _ absolutely not  _ come back to the Mortal Realm with you.”

Hades was awkwardly scratching his elbow, clearly wishing he was anywhere else, but Persephone ignored him, staring her mother down.

“Persephone, you can’t stay here.” Demeter said it like she was teaching a lesson, explaining to a child why it’s a bad idea to eat too much candy.  _ See? See what happens when you indulge? It leaves you sick. _ It was so condescending, and Persephone’s rage was boiling over. 

“It was too soon to send you to Olympus,” her mother continued, shaking her head. “You knew nothing of the world -”

But these were the wrong words for Demeter to say.

“AND WHOSE FAULT IS THAT?!” Persephone screamed, an angry knot twisting and churning in her stomach. “You kept me hidden away from everyone and everything my entire life! You  _ never  _ wanted me to leave home, you  _ never  _ wanted me to grow up! You tried to  _ force  _ me into a life of eternal maidenhood even though I’m a gods damn FERTILITY GODDESS for Gaia’s sake!”

Demeter’s mouth fell open.

“Yes, Mama, I  _ know. _ What I don’t know is why you kept it from me.  _ Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”  _ Then, pleadingly, “Why would you encourage me to be something that is the opposite of what I am?” 

  
The knot in her stomach twisted itself tighter. She waited - hoping, aching - that there was a logical explanation, a very good reason, something,  _ anything _ , to explain why Demeter would do such a thing. Demeter opened and closed her mouth several times, at a loss for words.

And Persephone knew then. She heard it in her mother’s silence. The certainty that her mother had always known what she truly was, and had always intended to keep it from her. The knot in her stomach untwisted, and in its place was a gaping hole that filled with disappointment. It was as though a gravedigger had thrown the last shovel of dirt to bury her. It felt final. It felt like a small death. And Persephone felt like a ghost of her former self, bitter and haunted. 

“You kept me so sheltered and naive. I was in the city for a  _ day  _ before someone harmed me. I was in a place where I was supposed to be  _ safe _ . So you know what? You’re right. This is your fault. You failed me.” 

Persephone wasn’t sure if she even believed what she was saying. She just knew that she was  _ so angry _ , and her mother trying to pull her back to her old life felt like yet another injustice in a long string of unfair evils.  _ Someone  _ needed to take the blame or Persephone felt like she would lose her mind, and so why shouldn’t it be her mother? Her first protector who had let her down when it really mattered. 

“So why would I go back with you?” she asked quietly. “Why would I go back to being constantly under your watchful eyes? So you can keep me safe? From what? What does it matter, Mama? I’m not a virgin anymore.” She shook her head, flower petals falling limply into her lap. “I can’t be what you wanted me to be. I never will be. And if you take me back to the Mortal Realm, and stash me away in some greenhouse, I will rot inside. And all of it will be  _ your  _ fault.”

Demeter looked at Persephone as though she had slapped her. Her lips trembled, and she didn’t open her mouth to speak. Persephone didn’t care. She knew her words were cruel, perhaps even unfair, but it felt so good to say them in that moment.

She didn’t wait for her mother to respond. Instead, she looked at Hades. “Hades? Take me home.” She held her hand out to him. He glanced apologetically at Demeter, clasped Persephone’s hand in his, and transferred them both back to the Underworld.

***

Arriving back in Hades’ living room, Persephone swayed and practically collapsed, Hades catching her before she could fall. The room was spinning, and small sparks of light were pricking the corners of her vision. 

“I feel so dizzy.” She brought her hand to her forehead, then covered her eyes.

“I think you may have overdone it. Again. The doctor said you needed to rest for a few days to get your strength back.” His hands gently held her, one splayed across her back, the other cradling her head to his chest. Each part of her where his body touched felt electric and alive. Still, she felt like she was going to pass out.

“Here,” Hades maneuvered her to the couch, laying her down and pulling a blanket from a nearby armchair. He had barely draped it over her before she was asleep once more.

***

Persephone wasn’t sure how long she slept. She awoke on Hades’ couch, groggy and dry mouthed, underneath a pile of sleeping dogs. When she sat up, they stirred and hopped off of her, scattering to various pet beds strewn around the room. Standing up, she shuffled to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. When she closed the refrigerator door, she noticed there was a note stuck to the front by a dog-shaped refrigerator magnet.

_ Not sure how long you’ll be asleep. Had to go to work for a bit, but I’ll be back soon. -H _

Persephone reached out a finger and gently traced the letter H in Hades’ signature, smiling. She felt an intense surge of love flow through her body, so powerful she practically stumbled. Lately,  whenever she thought of Hades, she seemed to experience extreme and overwhelming sensations. Of love, of lust, of giddiness. It was a wonder she didn’t swoon every time he walked into a room. Was it like this for everyone, or just fertility goddesses? 

Unfortunately, her powerful feelings for Hades and the strange reactions they elicited from her body were doing nothing to help her exhaustion. Foregoing the couch, she carried the bottle of water with her back to her room, setting it on the nightstand and climbing into bed. The sheets and pillow smelled overwhelmingly like Hades, which made her heart stutter. He was so...intoxicating. She wondered if her senses were enhanced right now, because she’d never noticed Hades’ scent on her bed sheets before. She barely had time to ponder this before she was unconscious yet again.

***

Hades got home late, close to midnight. He had a backlog of cases on his docket that just kept building, so he had decided to take care of as much of it that evening as possible, assuming Persephone would be sleeping through the night and perhaps well into the next morning. He was fairly exhausted himself by the time he finally walked through the door. 

Persephone wasn’t on the couch, so he figured she must have moved to the guest room. He’d check on her in a bit. First, he fed the dogs, who were glaring at him reproachfully, used to getting dinner hours earlier. Then he grabbed a slice of leftover pizza from the fridge and ate it cold, too sleepy to care. He gulped down some water and carried the bottle with him to go check on Persephone before heading to bed himself.

The guest bedroom door was open, and he peeked in. Her bed was made and unslept in. That was weird. Where could she have gone? Concerned that perhaps she collapsed and fell asleep in some other room, he set out to search for her. He’d check the library first, knowing she liked to pour over his books in there.

Walking past the open door to his bedroom, a flash of pink caught his eye. It was Persephone, curled up in his bed, buried in his blankets, her beautiful cheek pressed to his pillow. His heart stuttered to a standstill while a flurry of thoughts and feelings (none of which were appropriate) consumed him. He shuddered as a wave of cold sweat washed over him. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle with shaky hands, and began to take long mouthfuls of water from it.

_ Calm down, you ancient creep,  _ he admonished himself. He took a few deep, steadying breaths, and gazed at the tiny goddess in his bed, something he was ashamed he had fantasized about on more than one occasion. But, once he tempered his lust, other thoughts filled his head, one by one, like petals opening on a blooming flower. 

Persephone, in his sweatshirt and some big, fuzzy socks, burrowing under the covers with him, right into his arms so he could keep her warm. Waking up next to her, her hair all mussed from sleep and her voice all scratchy as she wished him a good morning. Her lips on his, sweet and tender. Her leg swung up over his hip, holding him from behind, smoothing his hair back and telling him everything was alright.

He staggered backwards a step and shook his head, the images falling away from him just as quickly as they came.  _ What the fates was  _ that _?  _ It felt like...it was so much more than a fantasy. It was almost like a premonition. He closed his eyes. No, it was wishful thinking and nothing more. Wishful thinking and fantasies that were perhaps just as inappropriate as his sexual ones, but in different ways.

He leaned against his doorframe and gazed at her for a few moments, wonderingly. Her hair was absurdly long and flower petals littered his room, marking the clear path Persephone must have taken to his bed. He wasn’t sure why she was there, and not the guest room, but it didn’t matter. He walked back to the living room, scooped up a whining Cordon Bleu, and vacated the spot on the couch Persephone had left earlier. The blankets still smelled like her sweet floral aroma.

***

Persephone opened her eyes and stretched, feeling incredibly well-rested and delightfully overwhelmed with the clean scent of Hades. She took a deep breath in, rubbing her eyes with one hand and groping for her cell phone on the nightstand with the other. Her phone wasn’t there, just her water bottle and an alarm clock she didn’t recognize.  _ Weird. _ Slowly her surroundings came to her, and she realized she wasn’t in the guest room. She was in Hades’ room! 

She scrambled out of bed, mortified and screaming internally. _Oh_ _my gods, oh my gods, oh my gods!_ What was she _doing_ in here? She could have sworn she went to the guest room after waking up on the couch last night! She must have been too out of it to realize she’d walked into Hades’ room instead.

_ I slept in Hades’ bed all night,  _ she thought to herself. A short, hysterical little giggle bubbled up from the frantic butterflies in her stomach. She clamped her hand to her mouth. “Oops,” she said out loud.

Her hair was several feet long, and she gathered it up in her arms, carrying it all the way to the kitchen, where Hades was already dressed and drinking coffee. He grinned at her, a knowing, scoundrel-y look of amusement.

“Good morning, Kore,” he greeted. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Very well, thank you. My bed was extra comfortable last night. Weird, huh?” She grinned.

“Indeed,” he agreed, sipping his coffee. Before he could say another word, there was a knock on the front door. Hades excused himself to go answer it, and Persephone floated over to the cabinet where Hades kept his cereal.

She was pouring herself a bowl when he strode back in. “That was the newspaper delivery.” He handed her the copy of  _ The Oracle,  _ the most trusted news source in the triarchy.

On the front page, a large headline declared: SUN GOD ACCUSED OF RAPE, TO STAND TRIAL.

Persephone looked from the words on the page and back up to Hades, who wore a sober expression on his face as he said, 

“And so it begins.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is something about a character waking up in a hospital to their crush being there by their bedside that makes my little shipper heart all twitterpated. It's one of my favorite tropes, and I just had to do it! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Comments are always appreciated!


	15. Disillusionment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Persephone prepares for the trial, the media continues to print stories on her. Artemis' world crumbles around her after a chat with Apollo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to Alpha, my beta, who is the gamma delta* best! 
> 
> *(GD...goddamn. It made more sense in my head.)
> 
> Please note that Apollo is in this chapter. And the word "rape" is used several times. No descriptions or anything, but I know that word can be triggering for some. <3

_ BREAKING NEWS: The highly worshipped and popular Olympian Phoebus Apollo (God of Sun, Music, and Medicine), has had shocking allegations of sexual assault levelled at him, by a hitherto little-known goddess who resides predominantly in the Mortal Realm. These accusations come hot on the heels of Apollo’s recent Gold medal in the Pantheon’s Annual Grand Chariot Race, and threaten to impede his vital work in the upcoming summer months, where the Sun God works overtime for the benefit of the Pantheon and the Mortal Realm alike.  _

_ While still a relatively young god, Apollo was hand-picked by King Zeus himself to join the elite Olympians. At the time of the ceremony, His Royal Majesty King Zeus was quoted as saying that Apollo had “tremendous potential and a ‘bright’ future (pun intended).” This promising future, however, is now threatened by the allegations made by the minor plant goddess, Proserpina, a practically unknown deity from the Mortal Realm.  _

_ There are those who question the truthfulness of these claims. “No one has ever even heard of her,” says ocean naiad Britney Diamandis, treasurer of her sorority Delta Theta Sigma, and President of the Unofficial Apollo Sun God Fan Club. “She’s probably just after his fame. Or he rejected her. Pretty much every girl wants to go out with him. He’s a catch!”  _

_ Apollo has been summoned by Zeus to stand trial for this indictment, this Saturday, May the 20th, and will be forced to cancel his upcoming performance at the Olympic Festival for the Music and Arts. His accuser, Proserpina, will also be at the trial. _

The Oracle  _ has reached out to the Olympian and God of Sun, Music, and Medicine for comment, but at the time of print, we had not received a response. Follow us on Fatesbook and Nymphstagram @oracle_news, for up-to-the-minute coverage on this shocking story.  _

“Proserpina?” Persephone pulled a face and looked up from the paper she was reading out loud to Hades. “Where did they get  _ Proserpina? _ ” 

Hades shook his head and put a fresh cup of tea in front of Persephone, along with a pomegranate scone. “Better get used to it. The influence of the media can be quite as effective as the mortals when it comes to renaming gods and goddesses.” 

“Ugh, well I don’t want to be Proserpina.” She threw the paper down, disgusted and annoyed. “And what kind of article even  _ was  _ that? They didn’t reach out to  _ me  _ for a statement! They didn’t even get a single thing about me right!” She felt a thorn growing from her hair and she plucked it out and tossed it at the newspaper.

“I know, Sweetness,” Hades said sympathetically. “It’s terrible reporting and it’s really not fair.”

“They all but said this was a huge inconvenience for their precious  _ God of the Sun.”  _

“The media can be quite biased towards the Olympians, especially  _ The Oracle _ . That paper is basically a circle jerk for Zeus.”

Persephone snorted into her tea, feeling some tension in her shoulders ease. Hades’ presence always helped soothe her anxiety. She heaved a deep sigh. “I know this is what I signed up for. Hera warned me that I might not get justice here. But  _ this,”  _ she pointed at the paper, “is exactly what I worried about. My reputation is being ruined. People already think I’m lying, and they don’t even know my name, let alone the details of what happened.”

Hades surveyed her over his coffee. “Y’know, there’s all kinds of reputation.” 

Persephone furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, a bad reputation isn’t necessarily a terrible thing.”

“Um, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “Take me, for instance. The media has been printing falsehoods about me for  _ centuries.  _ Before you met me, what did you think when you heard ‘King of the Underworld?’”

She considered. “Well...scary, I guess.” 

“Exactly. The mortals and the media alike paint me as this black spectre of doom. I’m domineering, and mean, and terrifying, and people tremble in my presence.” 

Persephone giggled.

“Hey! I can be terrifying if I want to be,” he said in a mock stern voice, wagging a finger at her.

“Uh huh, sure you can,” she teased.

“But this is what I’m saying,” he continued. “All those things that people say about me? That’s not  _ me _ . They don’t know me. And I spent years of my life wanting to change that public perception of me, until I finally just...leaned into it.”

“Leaned into it?”

“Yeah, I just decided that I would let the world go on thinking that I was mean and scary. And you know what? People are afraid of me...but they  _ respect  _ me. Is it fear that instills their respect? Sure. Does it bother me? Eh, not so much anymore. Because I’m in control of the narrative. I know who I am, and they know how powerful I am.”

Persephone blinked. “So you’re saying that I shouldn’t care whether people like me? Just that they respect me?”

“I’m saying they don’t know  _ you.  _ They’ve painted a picture of Proserpina, whoever the fates that is.” Persephone snorted again. “But I do think respect is much better than likeability. Notoriety doesn’t have to mean you’re ruined. Here in the Underworld, we embrace the public not liking us. It’s very on-brand for this realm.” 

He shot her a rakish grin and she smiled. 

“I know things are hard right now and they’re going to get harder,” Hades began softly. “But you are doing an  _ incredibly  _ brave thing. Like Hera said, he’ll do this again if he’s not stopped. You can stop him.” 

Persephone felt doubtful. She felt a lot of things: afraid and angry and overwhelmed and hungry for another scone. But she held it all in, and simply said, “I hope you’re right.”

It was too much pressure, she thought, to try to save everyone from Apollo. She just wanted him to be punished for what he did to  _ her _ , and it had already been made clear to her that she might not even be able to accomplish that much. She’d already failed once. If Zeus equated her being attacked with taking someone else’s instrument from a car, how could she possibly expect him to understand the gravity in allowing Apollo to get away with this? And then what? Would any future victim then be on Persephone’s shoulders, because she couldn’t stop him? Was she doomed to have Apollo’s crimes lay on her conscience for an eternity because she couldn’t convince people that she was worth not being attacked? 

Hades watched her for a moment. “Can I ask what made you change your mind? The last we talked about it, you weren’t planning on formally accusing Apollo.” 

Persephone tensed up, remembering about the photographs. In all of the chaos of yesterday, they had slipped her mind. But they were gone, weren’t they? She destroyed them.  _ But Alex had suggested there could be more copies out there _ . She had no idea whether the photos would help or hinder her case against Apollo, but it didn’t matter. She never wanted anyone to ever lay their eyes on them. She needed them wiped from all the realms. 

“Hey.” She broke from her panic, and realized Hades was looking at her with concern. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“Not really,” she said miserably. “Yesterday, when I was leaving class, Alex Petre came to talk to me.”

Hades narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Apollo had gone to him with...with a set of photographs.” She was trembling slightly, and she began to talk faster, rushing through the story to get it over with as soon as possible. “He wanted Alex to publish the photos as part of a salacious story on me to ruin my reputation.”

Hades’ froze. “Photos of you?” he asked carefully.

Persephone put her hands over her face. “Apollo took photos of me while he - “ Persephone heard glass shatter, and she removed her hands to see a broken coffee cup in Hades’ hand, golden ichor welling up at a slice in his palm. His eyes were closed and his nostrils were flared; he looked like he was making great efforts to calm down. His skin was changing slightly, getting darker, glowing. Persephone was completely entranced by it, but also alarmed. 

He opened his eyes, and as quickly as the change came on, he was back to normal. He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. “Oh, shit,” he said, noticing the slash in his palm and grabbing a hand towel. “I’m sorry, Kore, I sincerely apologize, I just...got very angry at this information. But please, continue.” 

“Yeah, I was angry, too. Angry is perhaps an understatement. I killed all the plants in a three-mile radius.”

Hades raised his eyebrows, peeling the towel back from his hand to check the bleeding. “I see. And that set into motion the events of yesterday, I presume?” 

She nodded. “Yes. But I did manage to destroy the photos before taking off for Zeus’ office.”

Hades looked relieved for her. “Oh, good. Good, I’m glad they’re gone.”

“The thing is,” she went on, willing her voice to stay calm, “I can’t guarantee they’re gone completely.” The bleeding seemed to have stopped, and Hades walked to the sink to wash his hands.

“But you just said you destroyed them.” He turned on the water and began lathering the soap. 

“The ones Alex had, yes. But Alex said Apollo may have given them to other news sources.”

Hades’ eyes darkened. “I’ll get this taken care of.”

“Are you going to pull out more eyes?” Persephone asked in alarm. 

He looked surprised. “Oh, no, no, nothing like that,” he hurriedly assured her. He softened his expression. “I promise I won’t pull out any eyes. Or do anything without your permission. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to put the Furies on this. They’ll track down any photos and have them destroyed. And I can get my tech team to track Apollo’s IP, and have those photos deleted from existence on any phone or computer they may be on. They are very professional and discreet, and they are the best of the best in their field.” 

Persephone felt her shoulders crumple in relief. “Oh, Hades, really? You can do that?”

“Of course I can. Underworld Corp manufactures all computers and cellphones. When we go into work tomorrow, we can meet with the Furies and brief them. Once it’s in their hands, those photos will never see the light of day. Consider them gone.” 

Persephone stood up and threw herself at Hades, wrapping her arms around his middle, squeezing hard. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Hades hesitated for just a moment, but then brought his arms up to circle around Persephone, cradling the back of her head. “You’re very welcome.” 

***

_ BREAKING NEWS: Eternal Maiden or Pink Minx? Shocking New Details Come to Light About Sun God’s Accuser  _

_ Following the recent allegations of sexual misconduct against the Olympian Apollo, more details emerge about his accuser, Kore, who has proven to be quite the salacious contradiction. Heiress to the Barley Mother fortune, the minor spring goddess was slated to join the purity organization, the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood, after receiving an academic scholarship from them for an undisclosed sum of money. However, the young deity was hardly in the city for more than a day before scandal surrounded her. Previously reported by  _ The Weekly Nark _ , Kore was seen leaving the house of King Hades of the Underworld the morning after the Panathenea.  _

_ “She was so drunk she could barely stand,” fellow partygoer, Catalina Delvechhio, shares exclusively with  _ The Oracle _. The river nymph, who works as a cocktail waitress and was busing tables at the Panathenaea, shared her insight from the thick of things at the annual party. “She really seemed out of her element. I understand needing a drink to take the nervous edge off, but that girl was slurring her words. It was embarrassing to watch, to be honest.” _

_ Excessive alcohol usage? Spending the night with the King of the Underworld? These certainly don’t seem to be the actions of a reputable maiden. “The mission statement of the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood,” explains a former member who wishes to remain anonymous, “is ‘Living a Life Devoted to the Service of Others.’ You’re expected to be a role model. Drinking would be a huge no-no for an eternal maiden, especially to excess. And, of course, any time spent alone with a male is in strict violation of the rules of conduct.” When pressed if it was common for candidates to explore these things before initiation, the source shrugged saying, “She wouldn’t be the first candidate to get cold feet.” _

_ Cold feet, indeed, and in 5-inch heels no less. In his statement following the accusations, Apollo admitted to having a sexual relationship with Kore, but maintained that it was completely consensual. Could it be that she has regrets of her dalliances with the Olympian? Does she need an easy out from the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood? And what of her connection to Hades? A fellow student from Olympus University shared exclusively with us that her coziness to this King is hardly a well-kept secret. “There have been rumors that she is the dark concubine of Hades. She pretends to be all naive and innocent, but she spends time in the Underworld with the Unseen One.” _

_ Could Kore’s connection to Hades be behind her allegation against Apollo? It is widely known that the God of the Dead doesn’t let Apollo set foot in the Underworld. Is this simply another way to knock him down a few pegs in their centuries-long feud? Is Hades the jealous type? Let us know your thoughts in the comments! _

***

**Several weeks ago**

Artemis stood shaking, her eyes unfocused and staring straight ahead as she thought back on the events of that morning. Frustrated tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she dashed them away angrily. 

Everything had been a confusing whirlwind since she had gotten the voicemail from Apollo frantically telling her that Persephone stole his lyre and called Hades to attack him  _ at her house _ . It had sent Artemis into a panicked rage. It was no surprise to her that Hades would do whatever Persephone asked of him - he was completely  _ obsessed _ with her, and Persephone was naive enough to think that meant he liked her romantically. As if any of the kings could feel true feelings of affection! They would do whatever it took to satisfy their perverted desires. Including leading a young goddess on. And apparently committing violence on her behalf. But why would  _ Persephone _ do such a thing? It didn’t add up. 

The whole way home she had warred with herself over what could possibly be true. She believed her brother, immediately, of course she believed her brother. White hot anger surged through her upon hearing that Persephone stole his lyre and called Hades to smack him around. How  _ dare  _ she? And yet, the anger dissipated quickly, replaced by logic. None of this made sense. She had rushed home to hear Persephone’s side of the story, giving her the benefit of the doubt  _ over her own brother _ , only to find her making a quick getaway with Hades. And she lost it, telling Persephone to get out and never show her face again. 

Her heart was pounding. She took a deep, slow inhale, counting the seconds, willing herself to calm down. She closed her eyes and exhaled. Should she call Hestia? Demeter? Maybe she could just talk to Athena alone - shouldn’t the Goddess of Wisdom be able to help her? There was a nagging feeling in the back of Artemis’ mind, a horrible thought she didn’t want to acknowledge, so she pushed it aside, tried to shove it further back in her head. No, she didn’t want to call anyone. 

She ran her hands through her hair, clutching fistfuls, thinking. She paced back and forth, her wolf watching her warily. She already felt guilty over losing her temper, regretting her words to Persephone almost as fast as they had flown out of her mouth. But she  _ barely _ knew Persephone, she reasoned. She owed her nothing. She stuck her neck out for her, and now her brother was injured and Artemis was almost certainly going to have her ass handed to her by Hestia. Of  _ course _ she was angry. 

So why was she feeling so conflicted? 

Apollo must have been trying to protect Persephone from Hades. Yes, it must have been that. He had been looking out for her ever since she arrived in Olympus. 

_ But Persephone doesn’t even like Apollo _ , she reminded herself.  _ Why?  _ She bit her lip, and she felt her heart pounding.  _ Why doesn’t she like Apollo?  _ He was her dumb brother, and he was definitely annoying. But Artemis had witnessed Persephone’s grace and patience with others who annoyed her, like Hestia. So Apollo simply being annoying didn’t seem to add up. She supposed Hades could have fed her lies about Apollo,  _ that  _ would certainly seem to match. When would Hades even have had  _ time  _ to complain about Apollo? Their phone calls? 

Artemis remembered the outburst Persephone had about Apollo the morning she started her internship.  _ “Let me tell you something about your brother,”  _ she had snapped, genuinely shaken and upset, on the verge of tears. Artemis had been so taken aback, but a second later, Peresphone had brushed it off and ran out of the house. 

That nagging feeling grew stronger, became more insistent. She stopped cold. She was reminded, bizarrely, of an instance in her youth, her very first solo hunt.  The creature had looped back around upon the hunt and had ended up tracking her, alone. Artemis shuddered to recall the moment of realization, the cold, slimy trickle of fear running down her spine as she had come to understand that she had become the prey. Her cocksure arrogance had obstructed her from all the signs of a predator on the hunt. She missed every signal, and she swore after that day that she would never be blinded by such hubris again. 

She shivered. She felt...disturbed. How could she even  _ think  _ this about her brother? The thought shouldn’t even cross her mind. 

She shut her eyes tightly, feeling her heart gallop in her chest, as though it wanted to burst from between her ribs and run from the truth. Why was Apollo here last night, alone with Persephone? Images ran through her mind, bright bursts of colored, oversaturated memories behind her eyelids: Persephone saying to her, “I thought we weren’t allowed to have men in the house.” Persephone’s too-wide eyes in that photo of the two of them on Fatesbook. Her plastered on smile. Artemis had brushed it off - It was Apollo, after all. He wasn’t  _ a man _ . He was just her brother. Her brother could never be a threat. 

Artemis knew, she  _ knew _ , Apollo had a crush on Persephone. She thought it was innocent; he found her attractive, that was all. He’d never  _ act  _ on it, knowing she was a candidate for TGOEM. Right? 

Panting, she picked up her phone and texted Apollo:  _ Come over. Now. We need to talk.  _ She took a shuddering breath. Her life was about to change, one way or the other. Things would never, ever be the same.

A terrifying fury simmered inside of her, but she projected an air of calm. Sitting on the couch, spine rigid, she folded her hands in her lap and waited.

***

Some time later, Apollo walked through the door, not even bothering to knock. He was limping slowly. He was faking. Artemis had seen her brother attempt to get out of going to school enough times in their childhood to know his acting when she saw it. ( _ When she was looking for it _ , part of her darkly observed.)

“Artemis,” Apollo sighed in relief. “Thank gods, I -”

“ _ Sit,”  _ she ordered, glaring.

Apollo froze at the expression on her face, then slowly sat down in an armchair opposite her, looking wary. He made a big show of acting like he was in pain, grunting as he lowered himself down. Artemis stared impassively. 

Apollo opened his mouth to speak but Artemis talked over him. “Why were you here last night?” She squeezed her hands together in her lap, her muscles fighting the tremors that threatened to overtake her.

Apollo hesitated. “I -”

“Why were you here alone with Persephone?” 

She saw a flicker of panic cross Apollo’s face, so quick she would have missed it if she didn’t know her twin brother so well. He said nothing. She clenched and unclenched her jaw. 

“Why have you gone out of your way to pick her up from class?” 

She could see he was thinking hard. Dread was seeping into her, poisoning her. These were easy questions that should have immediate answers. Why was he hesitating? 

“Why have you shared with me your concerns about Persephone and Hades?” she went on, narrowing her eyes. “You said you saw them together. Why do you seem to know where Persephone is and what she’s doing? Gods damn it, Apollo, why were you here alone with her last night?!”

Apollo’s mouth parted slightly, and she stared at him unblinkingingly, waiting. He met her gaze, and it felt like an eternity passed between them. She had never had to live a moment without her twin brother and the safety and security of their bond. From the moment her existence began, they were inextricably intertwined. Never one without the other. Losing Apollo would be like cutting off a limb. But the longer they stared at one another, saying nothing, the further away from her he seemed. Maybe she really didn’t know him at all. Maybe her entire existence has been a lie. If her whole identity was wrapped up in being Apollo’s twin sister, who would she even be now? And what did it say about her, Protector of Women, if her own kin had harmed a woman under her watch?

Finally, Apollo spoke. “I didn’t want to tell you,” he said softly. “We’ve been keeping it a secret.”

Lies. “ _ What  _ have you been keeping secret?”

“Persephone and I...we’re together.” More lies.

“You’re  _ together _ ?” 

“Yes.” He nodded. “And we want to _be_ _together,_ but she’s in your dumb maiden club.” Artemis gritted her teeth as he sighed theatrically. “I’m hoping that she’ll leave the organization, so we don’t have to keep our relationship a secret anymore. We’ve talked about it.” 

“Did you sleep with her?” Her question was low, gravelly, from deep in her throat, right above her heart that hardened further with every passing second. 

Apollo said nothing.   


“ _ Did you sleep with her?”  _ Artemis shouted into his cowardly silence.

“It was consensual!” 

There was a fault line straight through her heart, an earthquake inside of her. It rumbled outward, her whole body trembling. “...why did you feel the need to clarify that?” 

“I, um -” 

“So you’re telling me that you slept with my friend, in my house. A 19-year-old girl, new to Olympus, who is a candidate for the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood. Is that what you’re saying? You slept with a virgin who was supposed to remain one for all of eternity? And you had to clarify to me just now that it was  _ consensual _ ?” 

“It’s not what you think.”

“And what is it that I think? Tell me.” 

Silence from her lying, cheating twin brother. 

“Nothing to say, huh?” she asked bitterly. “You’ve always loved to tell me what to think, so why can’t you tell me now?” 

“N-no!” Apollo choked. “I have something to say! I…I just meant that she has feelings for me, that’s all I meant when I said ‘consensual.’ It was  _ mutual _ , Artemis. We  _ mutually  _ care for each other, that’s all I meant!” He raised his hands, placatingly.

Artemis glared. “If you  _ mutually _ care for each other, then why did she take your lyre? Fucking Fates, Apollo, you can’t even keep your lies straight!” 

“Okay, okay!” he shouted, standing up. His limp was  _ miraculously _ gone, as he started to pace in front of her, his eyes darting wildly around the room. There was a yellow glow behind his eyes, and Artemis’ breath hitched - for a fraction of a second, she was actually  _ afraid  _ of her younger twin. This person in front of her was not her brother, but a man she did not recognize, who she did not know. “Okay,” he said, almost to himself, nodding as though he had decided something. “When I went to her room last night, I didn’t know she had stolen the lyre. I found out it was in her room after Zeus’ men canvassed the place to file their incident report.

“I...I said she had stolen it because I was embarrassed. She wanted to break up with me. She called me here last night to break up with me.” He had a look on his face, like he was starting to cry, but Artemis could see there were no tears. He was trying to mimic the emotions of a feeling man, but it was a charade. She felt sick.

“She-she told me that she was in love with Hades! I tried to reason with her, explain to her why Hades is a bad guy. Artemis, I swear to you I tried to save her!” His hand crossed his face, wiping away his imaginary tears. “She called him up, and he showed up! He smacked me around and then took her to the Underworld! He got that twisted shrew, Hecate, to do his dirty work, too!” he added, viciously. “She kept me chained up until Zeus’ men got there.”

Artemis shut her eyes, dizzy from the lies. He spoke like he was brainstorming, solving puzzles on the spot and then pitching an idea to her. And the longer he talked, the more convinced he sounded, and the more she could see that he believed what he was saying. She felt momentarily outside of herself, like she could float away into a million tiny pieces of her own disillusionment. And from somewhere that seemed very far away, Apollo was spouting a litany of lies that she would have believed once. Even just yesterday, which felt like another lifetime ago. 

Artemis’ world had crumbled, leaving her standing on a tiny precipice. Any direction she turned was vast emptiness, a barren nothingness, a pitch black canyon she wanted to fling herself into to see how far down it went. She had always believed Apollo grounded her, kept her from falling. But perhaps he only held her back, stopping her from peeking over the edge, to see what was really there. He didn’t protect her from the world. He protected himself by keeping her from it.

Finally, Artemis interrupted him, and said flatly, “Apollo...get out of my house.”

Shocked, he stuttered, “W-what?”

“Get out.” She was surprised how calm she sounded, how easy it was in this moment to detach from her emotions, to kick her brother out. She was surprised her voice didn’t echo around the hollowness inside of her. It came out soft, calm, removed. “You’re no longer welcome here. Do not contact me. I don’t even know what to think of you right now. I don’t know who you are.”

Apollo blinked. “Of course you do! Of course you know me!” It came out sounding like an order, instead of a reassurance.

She shook her head sadly. “No. Get out.”

He watched her for a long moment, his eyebrows raised in audacity, expecting her to change her mind. But she didn’t. 

“Fine,” he snapped. “Take some time to cool off. I look forward to your apology. My own sister!” he shouted to the air. “Betrayed by my own sister.” He shook his head, glaring. He swung open the door and stomped out. Turning back, he looked right into his sister’s eyes and said, “You are  _ nothing  _ without me. Remember that.” The slam of the door was an immense finality, and Artemis picked up a throw pillow on her couch and screamed into it.

***

Weeks passed, and Apollo stayed away. Even though it was what Artemis wanted, she still felt ripped up inside. She found herself trying to convince herself that she was wrong about him, that she misread this whole situation. But the longer time passed, he was showing her who he  _ truly  _ was, solidifying every fear and crushing every last hope like a pestle into a mortar, the fine powder blown away even by the gentlest of winds. 

She was unmoored in a tempest of her own despondency. She’d never been separated from Apollo for this long, and she spent this time picking through every moment of their existence, reexamining every word or interaction. It was gloomy work. With each revelation, she was revolted. By him, by herself, by all the realms. And still,  _ still,  _ she did not know how she could reconcile Apollo, her brother, with Apollo the...

She couldn’t bring herself to explicitly think it was rape. She needed to tell herself it was consensual, or else she would fall apart. But she knew. In the back of her mind, she knew. She was supposed to be the protector of women, but she was nothing more than a scared little girl, curled up and hugging her knees, afraid of a world beyond her dollhouse.

She sank deeper into depression, her days clouded by a roiling darkness within her, her nights moonless and silent. She went through the motions - get up, go to work, come home, sleep. No one called her, no one texted her, no one spoke to her. And that was for the best. The best she could offer now was to disappear. She was a failure. 

Every day, she wondered if she should call Persephone. And every day, she couldn’t bring herself to. What could she even say to her? She felt like such a coward, because she couldn’t face whatever it was that Persephone would say. Would she confirm all her suspicions and fears about her brother? 

Artemis would lay awake at night, staring at her wall, reminding herself that this was already over. She already knew the truth, even if she didn’t talk to Persephone. Why was she clinging to this last shred of delusional hope, that if no one said it, it wasn’t real?

Then, one morning,  _ The Oracle  _ arrived at her door, with the headline that solidified it all. Apollo, God of the Sun, and Music, and Medicine, her brother, accused of rape. Whatever thread held them together all these centuries, some mimicry of an umbilical cord that connected them, was cut. Irreparable. Apollo was a blind spot in her life. Her twin. Her best friend. And all this time, he’d been a monster. 

How could she let this happen? 

For weeks, she had been a husk of a person, a hollow shell of a goddess, empty of all feeling. Her emotions came rushing back to her, so intense she practically staggered backwards. She squeezed her hand into a fist, and punched a hole in the wall of the house that held the secrets of her brother’s crimes. 

***

_ BREAKING NEWS: Apollo’s Accuser Moves to Underworld _

_ As the trial of Apollo (God of Sun, Music, and Medicine) nears, everyone is scrounging for more details of his accuser, Persephone. The candidate for the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood had initially been the roommate to fellow TGOEM member and Apollo’s twin sister, Artemis (Goddess of the Hunt). But it turns out that the minor deity moved to the Underworld weeks ago, into the house of Hades, no less! While unclear if she left of her own volition or was kicked out by Artemis, some are concerned that the 20-year-old goddess is being taken advantage of. “That dog follows her everywhere,” says Agamemnon Konstantinopolites, who attends classes with Persephone on Tuesdays and Thursdays at Olympus University. He is speaking, of course, of Hades’ three-headed dog, the notorious Cerberus, and it seems the gates of hell aren’t the only thing he guards. “He escorts her to class, then he’s waiting for her when she’s finished. He barely leaves her side. It’s weird. It’s almost like she’s a prisoner.” _

_ However, others say the one in danger in this relationship is none other than Hades himself. In an exclusive interview with Thanatos (Chthonic God of Death), he reveals just how much of a hold this tiny goddess has on the Underworld’s ruler. “This entire thing reeks of Olympus nepotism,” claims the winged deity. “She flounced in here and was just handed an internship that she’s not even qualified for.” He went on to add, “She works with him, now she lives with him. If anyone is being manipulated here, it’s Hades. She has him wrapped around her little pink finger.” _

_ Kore: Kidnapped or controlling? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below! _

***

“Okay, so, here’s how this is going to work.”

Persephone was seated on the couch in Hades’ office at Underworld Corp, Hecate standing before her, preparing to walk her through what to expect during tomorrow’s trial with Apollo. Hades was leaning against his desk, arms folded, a somber look on his face. Persephone kept sneaking little glances at him. She suspected he was nervous about the trial as well, but he masked it, projecting an air of calm that she clung to desperately. 

“When you get to the courtroom tomorrow,” Hecate began, “Zeus will call you and Apollo both up to a dais. As the accuser, you get to speak first. You’ll make your statement and call your witnesses.”

Persephone nodded. “I prepared what I’m going to say, and I already spoke to Eros and Hera, and they both agreed to testify on my behalf.” 

“Good,” Hecate replied. “Though I should warn you that visions aren’t always permissible in court.”

“But he’s the God of Love, it’s his domain,” Hades protested, referring to when Eros held Persephone’s hand and saw the rape through her eyes. 

“Yes,” Hecate agreed, “and Zeus has been trying to undermine that domain for decades, claiming Eros and Aphrodite tricked him into cheating on Hera.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, but what about Hera’s visions?” Persephone asked. “She’s the Queen of the Gods.”

“Unfortunately, Zeus will probably take her visions even less seriously,” Hecate sighed. “He’s been trying to gaslight her about those for  _ centuries,  _ because she would have visions of his infidelity which he always steadfastly denied.” 

“Gods, my brother is _such_ _a dick_ ,” Hades muttered.

Persephone huffed in annoyance. “Great, so my witnesses will go up there and waste their time.  _ Then  _ what happens?”

“Then Apollo gets to speak in his defense,” Hecate said. “He could call witnesses, but I doubt he’ll have any. Then,” she spread her hands, “it’s up to Zeus.” 

Persephone bit her lip, and turned to Hades, who was already watching her, his eyes compassionate. She knew he was sad. She was sad, too. She was sure they were both thinking the same thing: This would almost certainly not go in her favor. But it was too late to turn back now. And so she had to try. 

***

_ BREAKING NEWS: Persephone: Violent and Out of Control? _

_ On the heels of tomorrow’s high profile trial of Apollo (God of Sun, Music, and Medicine), his accuser’s very character has come into question. Though small in stature, it appears this young deity has quite the rage in her, acting out in several notable ways. Perhaps it should come as no surprise that the daughter of Demeter, known to be the fiercest of the Six Traitors, has committed acts of violence. “She is completely out of control,” classmate and former study group attendee, Tori tells us. “She went nuts the other week, killing all the plants around her and smashing the classroom windows. People were running and screaming, but she seemed to really be enjoying herself. Plus,” he added, “everyone knows she got her boyfriend to rip out my roommate’s eye.” _

_ That roommate is former  _ Weekly Nark _ reporter, Alex Petre, who was responsible for the article revealing Persephone leaving the King of the Underworld’s house the morning after the Panathenaea.  _ The Oracle _ reached out to Petre for comment, but did not receive a response.  _

_ As if killing plants and taking eyes weren’t bad enough,  _ The Oracle _ has learned exclusively that Persephone stole Apollo’s lyre! A source who wishes to remain anonymous shared with us that Apollo had quietly accused the goddess of taking his sacred object for an entire week. “He totally gave her a chance to give it back,” says the source. “But after enough time passed, Apollo kind of had no choice but to take it to Zeus, y’know? He definitely didn’t want to make a big deal about it. Zeus settled the whole matter quietly, and the little thief didn’t even get in trouble. And how does she repay Apollo’s mercy? Accusing him of rape!” _

_ It certainly is suspicious to have so many unsavory incidents following around such a young goddess, who clearly seems to have some sort of vendetta against Apollo. Whether her anger is justified or not, she has taken some serious missteps. And what of her name change from Kore to Persephone?  _ The Oracle _ has made inquiries into this new moniker, but there are no records on how a maiden from the Mortal Realm became known as the Bringer of Death. _

_ Be sure to follow us on Nymphstagram and Fatesbook @oracle_news for live, up-to-the-minute coverage of tomorrow’s trial! _

***

The next morning, Hades drove Persephone and Hecate to Olympus, to attend the trial. When they pulled up to Zeus’ courthouse, there was already a huge media circus out front. Persephone sank down in her seat, and Hades caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “The windows are tinted enough that they can’t see in,” he assured her. 

She felt jittery, and she kept fiddling with the air conditioning knob. She had so much adrenaline running through her body that her teeth began to chatter. She needed to try to calm down; the backseat was steadily filling up with flower petals. She closed her eyes.  _ Breathe in. Breathe out.  _

Hades’ car came to a stop, and she opened her eyes to see Hades and Hecate both twisted around in their seats, looking at her. “You ready?” Hecate asked, her voice gentle.

“No.” Persephone shook her head. “But let’s do it anyway.” 

They unfastened their seatbelts, and Hades and Hecate stepped out of the car. Hades swung his coat off as Hecate moved around the car to open Persephone’s door. She was hit with a blast of warm air, and she squinted her eyes against the brightness of the sun, which was oppressive and blinding after the peaceful darkness of the Underworld. Hades had her covered by his coat before the camera flashes could even start. She could hear them, but Hades was pushing through the crowd in front of her and Hecate’s hand was on her back from behind her, steadying her. Though the reporters shouted questions, too many were talking at once for Persephone to really make out what they were saying.

It was all over fairly quickly, the din of the news media stifled once they were inside the lobby of the building. Hades lifted his coat from over Persephone, and smiled down at her. “You okay?” His hand softly brushed her cheek.

She gazed up at him. “I’m okay. How’s my hair?” 

He chuckled. “It looks great. I  _ told  _ you I wouldn’t let it get messed up under my coat! Did you believe me? No.”

Persephone grinned, feeling her nervous trembling ease up a bit. In all the preparation for the trial, Hades had caught on quickly that joking around about petty and unimportant details helped Persephone relax, keeping her distracted from letting her thoughts and her nervousness overwhelm her. She took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.” Instinctively, she grabbed Hades’ hand, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

He sucked in air through his teeth. “Gods, your fingers are  _ freezing _ !” He took both of her hands between his own and rubbed, warming them up. 

“Uh, guys…” Hecate said.

Hades and Persephone looked up. Standing in the lobby in front of them were Demeter and the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood. Her mother, Hestia, and Athena all had their eyes glued in shock to Hades and Persephone’s clasped hands. But Artemis stared directly into Persephone’s eyes, holding her gaze, pain and regret written intensely all over her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene where Hades and Hecate walk Persephone into the court room was directly inspired by an early Lore Olympus banner, where Persephone is under Hades' coat as he pushes past Apollo and reporters, with Hecate behind her. 
> 
> Thank you to Selinapedia for the idea of Hades being able to get all pictures off of Apollo's phone and any other devices, because he runs the tech company. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter! Next chapter is the trial :-0 
> 
> Comments are fuel that keeps me going!


	16. Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo goes on trial for his crimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: This chapter deals heavily with rape and victim-blaming. Persephone will describe her rape during her testimony (though not in great detail, but it could still be very triggering). Reader discretion is advised, and please take care <3
> 
> This chapter took me I think two months to write! It's a big one to the story, and my hope is that you will find it satisfying and cathartic. 
> 
> Thank you again to HeliosAlpha, for always being my beta and my friend. My brend, if you will.

A long silence dragged on in the lobby of Zeus’ office as Demeter, Hestia, and Athena stared pointedly at Hades and Persephone. Tightening her grip on Hades’ hand, Persephone tore her eyes away from Artemis, who had been holding her gaze. She didn’t have the time nor the energy to try to interpret her intense look. Her focus needed to be on the task at hand, which was getting through this trial. Finally Hecate said, “Hello everyone.” Then, turning to Persephone, “I’m going to go check in with Hera. She texted me that she was here.” She nodded to Demeter and the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood, before walking away, the staccato clicks of her stilettos echoing on the marble floor.

Persephone examined the women before her, each of whom was important to her. Each held parts of her past, moments of her present, and pieces of her uncertain future. She gazed at her mother, who stood awkwardly, looking deeply uncomfortable. Persephone waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. Instead, Hestia bustled up, Athena following behind her, and grabbed Persephone, pulling her into a crushing hug. 

“Oh, Persephone,” she crooned, “You poor thing. I’m  _ so _ happy to see you. Though I wish it were under better circumstances, of course.” She pulled back, clutching Persephone’s shoulders and looking her straight in the eyes. “Kore, dear, I want you to know that the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood believe you and support you.”

Persephone’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “R-really?”

“Of  _ course _ . This organization was founded in order to protect women against this very kind of thing. Who would we be if we didn’t throw our full support behind one of our former candidates?” Her hands tightened at Persephone’s shoulders, intending reassurance. A knot tightened around her insides. 

“F-former?” Persephone stuttered.

“Well, considering the circumstances - “ Hestia began uncomfortably. 

Athena placed her hand on her shoulder and said, her voice low, “Perhaps now is not the time, Hestia.” 

Hestia opened her eyes wide. “Oh! You’re right, of course, of course.” She grabbed Persephone’s free hand, her other one still clutching Hades’. “We are here for you. We will be sitting behind you in the courtroom for the whole trial, and we all care about you very, very much.” Her voice rang with sincerity. 

Athena nodded in agreement to Hestia’s words, and Persephone’s eyes roamed to Artemis, who was staring pointedly at the ground. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought the purple goddess looked almost...guilty.

“Um, thank you, Hestia,” she managed to stammer out. This was all too much to think about. She couldn’t worry about any of this right now: not her mother, not the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood, not her future. She needed to get away and ground herself. She wanted to read over her statement a few times before the trial started. She looked up at Hades almost pleadingly, hoping he could guide her where she needed to go, as her feet seemed to have taken root. Demeter took a step forward, looking as though she were about to speak when suddenly, Hecate was back. She held her arm out expectantly.

“Persephone, come with me. The trial will be starting momentarily.” Hecate’s outstretched arm was like a checkpoint; reaching it was the only thing she needed to worry about at that moment, her singular goal. She put all of her concentration into walking toward it, one step at a time. 

Luckily, Hades was there to help. He released her hand and softly placed his at the small of her back, gently guiding her forward. She hadn’t really felt herself walking, but suddenly Hecate was gripping her shoulder tightly, comfortingly, and steering her down a hallway, Hades still behind her. Hades and Hecate had been bookends holding her upright this past week, but soon she would have to stand on her own. And it was terrifying. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, and she knew Hecate was talking, but it sounded very far away and she couldn’t make out a single thing she said. A low ringing started in her ears and a cold sweat washed over her, chilling her. She felt weightless and confused. Where was she? Everything went black.

***

“Persephone? Kore, can you hear me?” A voice called to her from the dark.

Persephone opened her eyes, everything blurry. She blinked several times, trying to focus. She was slumped against Hades, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, and Hecate was kneeling in front of her.

“Wha-what happened?” she asked groggily. 

“You passed out,” Hades said next to her, his voice low and calming.

“Oh,” she said, still not feeling 100% present. “Oh.”

“Here, drink this.” Hecate handed her a thick metal cup with a dark, fizzing drink inside. Persephone stared at it dumbly. 

“How do you just  _ have  _ a goblet?” Hades asked, incredulous. 

“I’m Hecate, Goddess of Witchcraft, nice to meet you,” she quipped. Hades rolled his eyes, nodding. 

“What is this?” Persephone asked.

“It’s a concoction that will help calm your nerves. Plus, it tastes like butterscotch.” 

Persephone tossed it back in one swallow. It did taste delightfully like butterscotch, and she felt it melt through her, thick and slow, pooling in the tips of her fingers and the centers of her feet, grounding her. She was feeling stronger already. The world became clearer, brighter, and her heart rate evened out. She sank against Hades in relief as Hecate took the goblet back from her, making it disappear with a wave of her hand.

Hades’ arm wrapped protectively around Persephone as she took deep breaths. “Better?” he asked. 

Persephone swallowed. “Yes. Much.” She took a deep inhale, examining the hallway where they sat. It was long and empty save for a few benches. At the end of it were two enormous gold-gilded doors. They were foreboding and immense, so heavy looking she wasn’t sure she would even be strong enough to push them open. And behind them would be the hardest thing she ever had to do, the room where she would reveal the intimate horror of what was done to her, the place where she might not find justice at all. 

She stood up, squared her shoulders, and began to walk towards it. The closer it became, the more daunting it all was, but she knew she was brave. She knew she was  _ right.  _ The doorknob was cold to the touch. She realized, vaguely, that Hades and Hecate were on either side of her, waiting for her to open the door. 

“Well,” she said softly, swallowing thickly, “this is it.” 

“This is it,” Hecate agreed. “You’ve got this.” 

Persephone nodded. “I’ve got this.” She turned the knob and pushed against the heavy door. Surprisingly, both doors slowly opened on their own, revealing a huge amphitheater of swirling cream and gold marble. Massive, intricately carved corinthian columns surrounded the room, reaching upwards towards the domed ceiling, which was painted with golden clouds. Persephone counted 12 columns, one for each Olympian. 

The seats themselves were already filled with spectators, a large portion of whom seemed to be from the media. They were setting up cameras, pulling out microphones, leafing through notepads. Persephone noted an entire row filled with young girls of varying species, all wearing bright yellow t-shirts emblazoned with, “Unofficial Apollo Sun God Fan Club.” She heard Hecate scoff beside her.

Persephone began walking towards the center of the amphitheater, where Eros and Hera were standing, waiting for her. When she reached them, Eros swooped in and pulled her into a tight hug. When they separated, Hera put her hand on Persephone’s shoulder, looking at her kindly. She appraised her, looking her up and down, taking in her short cropped hair and the white pantsuit Hecate had encouraged her to wear. She nodded in approval. 

“You look…strong,” she said. “You can do this.” 

She nodded. “Thank you - both of you - for coming. I’ve prepared a statement.” She pulled from her handbag several pieces of paper, filled with the truth. She had written it slowly, making sure each word was deliberate, careful to make each letter crisp and readable, impossible to interpret as anything else but what she wanted to say. Hecate had walked her through how the trial would go, but she still nervously explained to Hera and Eros, feeling out of her depth. “I’m going to r-read it and then I think afterwards is when you will give your testimony.” 

“Absolutely,” Eros said. “We’ve got your back.” Hera nodded as he spoke, the two gods in rare agreement. 

Persephone’s gaze shifted to the tiered dais in the center of the amphitheater. Towering over them all was a massive statue of Zeus, hair long and flowing, eyes fierce and proud. The white polished stone was so incredibly lifelike, it was as though his hair was blowing in the wind. Zeus’ likeness wore a flowing himation, and in his hands was a tremendous lightning bolt, pointing upwards towards the sky. She wasn’t sure if this statue invoked authority or fear, but Hades clearly wasn’t impressed. From behind her she heard him say to Hecate, “Gods, I forgot how giant his statue is. Think it’s compensating for something?” Hecate snorted.

Below the statue sat a golden throne decorated with intricate carvings. Seven steps lead up to the great chair, each a different color of the rainbow, and on the arm of the chair was a large bust of a ruby-eyed eagle. 

Hades continued his commentary to Hecate under his breath. “Sweet Gaia, I forgot how tacky he is. I’ve never met anyone more obsessed with themselves and it shows.  _ Must  _ he have  _ rainbow _ steps? Clashes with everything in the room.”

Persephone knew that, under different circumstances, had the situation not been so dire, she would be thoroughly enjoying his utter disdain for his brother’s throne room decor, and that Hades, to make her laugh, would continue his diatribe until she was snorting undignified giggles into her hand. 

Spectators continued to file in, claiming their seats in the tiered bleachers. And then she saw him for the first time since he had attacked her all those weeks ago: Apollo. He entered the room with the same pompous air that seemed to be his signature. He looked both confident and annoyed, as though this were merely an inconvenience and a complete waste of his time. His fan club began swooning, calling out to him. He walked over to sign  _ autographs _ . Persephone felt sick.

All at once, the media became aware of his presence, moving like one many-armed malignancy, their cameras clicking and flashing, capturing the Sun God with a fan club  _ at his own trial _ . Persephone felt a zap in her brain, a high pitched, white-hot, dizzying  _ zing  _ that threatened to tip her over. Hades stepped in front of her, blocking out the flashes, and she shut her eyes tight, burying her face in his chest. 

“Hera,” he said, over Persephone.

“I’m on it,” she replied, the sound of her footsteps hurrying over. “Listen up, plebeians” Persephone heard her say imperiously, and all of the sound immediately stopped. “There is absolutely no flash photography in this courtroom. Put your cameras away. This is a rape trial, not a damned three-ring circus for you clowns. If I so much as hear a single  _ click _ , I will escort you to Tartarus myself.” 

Persephone sighed, stepping back from Hades and scanning the crowd, avoiding looking towards Apollo. Behind her, Hestia Athena and her mother were seating themselves. She realized that this section was hers. The beings who chose to sit there supported  _ her _ , and there were quite a few, with more continuing to stream in. She felt bolstered, a warmth flowing through her. People had her back.  _ Strangers _ had her back. They believed her. She had become so accustomed to the media’s lies and misprints, their glowing support of an Olympian over a ‘B-grade’ goddess, that she hadn’t considered that she might actually have supporters out there, who believed her and stood behind her. They had come out in full force, and Persephone felt stronger for it. 

One of the last people to enter the courtroom was Artemis, who paused in the aisle. She was looking at her brother, who was ignoring her. Once again, she found Persephone’s eyes and held her gaze. Then, deliberately and assuredly, she walked over and took a seat in Persephone’s section, next to Demeter and the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood. Persephone was absolutely floored. 

But before she could even contemplate what it all meant, the ground rumbled ominously, and the room went absolutely silent. A massive thunderclap preceded a blinding lightning bolt that seared the sky, and caused gasps among the crowd. From a glowing cloud in front of the throne, Zeus emerged, lightning crackling around him and throughout the room. He wore a long white himation and a tall golden crown. His eyes were glowing, and the low rumbling continued, building to a crescendo as he ascended the rainbow steps to his throne. He turned towards the crowd, reaching out his hand to clasp from the air a huge sceptre in the shape of a lightning bolt, emitting crackling electricity. All at once, it came to a peak, with lightning flashing across the sky, and thunder booming inside of everyone like a bass line. Zeus took a seat, and it all stopped.

The crowd was enthralled. Persephone heard Hecate, however, scoff under her breath and mutter, “Show off.” 

While this spectacle was no doubt meant to instill fear and dread in the audience, perhaps even reverence, Persephone found herself suddenly undaunted. Zeus was smoke and mirrors, pomp and circumstance. It was a show to him. And while he alone held the outcome of this trial in his ridiculously gaudy sceptre-filled hand, Persephone wasn’t  _ afraid _ of him. He couldn’t intimidate her. And this realization could not have come at a better time, as Zeus called both her and Apollo to step forward, standing on opposite sides of the dais. Two podiums awaited them. Persephone carefully placed her statement on hers, while Apollo casually leaned on his elbows.

Zeus cleared his throat. “Welcome, everyone,” he began, speaking into the almost palpable silence. “You are standing here today to witness the trial of Phoebus Apollo, who is accused of rape by the Goddess Persephone. Persephone will give a statement and call forth witnesses if she so chooses. When she is finished, Apollo will also give a statement and call forth witnesses if he so chooses.” In a booming voice he said, “My ruling on this will be final.” He pounded the ground twice with his sceptre.

“Persephone, you have the floor.” 

_ Breathe in. Breathe out. _

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Persephone began. Her voice wavered for only a moment, but she cleared her throat, and spoke with conviction. She clasped her hands together to keep the nervous tremors at bay.  _ Don’t let them rattle you,  _ she told herself.

“My name is Persephone, and I grew up in the Mortal Realm as the Goddess of Spring. Earlier this year, I was awarded a scholarship by the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood, to attend university here in Olympus. Because I am a candidate for membership with this organization, a fellow member, Artemis, offered her home to me while I attended college.” Persephone swallowed thickly.

“That is where I met Apollo. He came over to the house for dinner. That evening, after I went to sleep, he came into my room.” This was the hardest part, but she forged on, looking at her paper, not letting her focus waver to the hundreds of eyes watching and lapping up every single second of this. “He came into my room and he woke me up. He pressured me into having sex with him, even though I protested, even though I did not want to. While it was happening, I was outside of myself, like it was happening to someone else and not me. I wanted to stop, but it kept going. He pulled out his phone...and took  _ pictures _ . When it was finally over, he kissed me and left. I showered and cried.”

She paused for just a moment, letting it sink in, but the rush of white noise in her ears blocked out any murmurs that might be happening in the audience surrounding her. Having no idea how anyone might be reacting, if at all, she kept going.

“Apollo then proceeded to stalk me. Showing up at my school, always being over the house. He fed lies to his sister about our relationship to try to control me. Then, after about a week had passed, he showed up in my bedroom again, and tried to do... _ it _ again. I tried to fight back, but he is very strong. I summoned Hades for help because he is my friend and he offered to always help me if I needed it. 

“I had every intention of trying to move on with my life. But Apollo refused to leave it.” Her voice took on a bitter edge. “He kept coming back, he kept trying to control me, he kept trying to hurt me and assault me. Those pictures that he took? He gave them to a reporter at  _ The Weekly Nark _ in an attempt to discredit me and shame me. This was the point at which I decided I had to come forward and publicly accuse Apollo. He showed, time and again, that he would either have me or destroy me.” 

Persephone hardened her voice, raising it loud. “And I won’t let him do  _ either of those things to me _ \-  _ he cannot have me, and he cannot destroy me _ . I am letting this courtroom and the Pantheon and all the realms know exactly what Apollo is and what he is capable of, in the hopes that I will be heard and believed and that justice will prevail.”

Large yellow flowers with dark black centers began to cascade across her head, forming a crown. She felt them materializing one by one, weaving in and out of her hair and sitting, strong and formidable, on top of her head that she held high. She knew just what they were - yellow black-eyed Susans - the flower of justice. And while the silence was deafening, Persephone knew that she had done it, she knew that they believed her. They believed the truth. 

“I would like to call forth my witnesses, Hera and Eros. They can corroborate my story.” 

Hera and Eros stepped forward, looking serious and solemn. Hera spoke first. “I had a vision that Persephone was raped. I shook her hand when she was at my house being assigned her internship, and I saw it. I can confirm that what she says is true.”

Next, Eros spoke. “I used my powers as a love god to see Persephone’s experience. She took my hand and showed it to me, and what she revealed was rape. I can confirm that what she says is true.”

Zeus nodded at their testimony, and they returned to their seats, Eros squeezing her shoulder reassuringly on the way. 

“Thank you, Persephone,” Zeus said. “And thank you to your witnesses. Apollo?” He gestured to Apollo to begin his rebuttal.

Apollo was leaning with his elbows on his podium, his chin in his hand, looking bored and oozing condescension from every pore. He had a queerly amused look on his face, as though he merely tolerated everything that had just happened, and that she was some dimwitted village girl. 

He let the silence stretch on for a moment before making a big show of straightening up, as though he had been lulled into sleep with her testimony. “Oh, is it my turn now?” He looked around the room, cocky and arrogant. “Good. Listen.” He pointed lazily at her. “She said okay.” 

“What?” Zeus asked from his throne, brows knitted in confusion.

“Yeah,” Apollo said, “she said  _ okay _ . She was flirting with me all night, sending me giant signals, y’know? So I went into her room, cause I figured that’s what she wanted. We kissed for a bit and she said ‘okay.’ Then we had sex. I didn’t have sex with her until she said okay.”

Persephone heard a faint ringing in her ears, growing louder by the second, and she felt a bead of sweat drip slowly down her back. 

Zeus turned to her. “Is this true?” he asked. “Did you say okay?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

Apollo threw his hands up into the air in exasperation. “Then what are we even  _ doing _ here? She just admitted she consented!”

“But I didn’t consent!” Persephone’s voice whipped through the crowd like a spiked lasso. “I said no. I POLITELY declined, and you continued to kiss me. I pushed you away with my arms, my feet, my words, and you wouldn’t LISTEN. You told me I wanted this and that I wasn’t being mature. I told you I was supposed to be an eternal virgin, and you were already taking my underwear off! I felt pressured and scared and unsure. You woke me up from my sleep and bombarded me and I couldn’t think straight, and I finally said okay. But it wasn’t a choice. And it wasn’t consent.”

Zeus looked confused, like he was trying to puzzle out a riddle. “So you said okay...and then you regretted it, so you’re accusing him of raping you?” 

“No! I said okay because he pressured me into saying okay! Because he wouldn’t let me say no!”

“But, Persephone,” Zeus said slowly, “how is Apollo supposed to know you didn’t mean what you said? He’s not a mind reader.” 

Persephone felt a wave of anger wash over her. She was trembling. “Apollo knew  _ exactly _ what he was doing. He knew I didn’t want to have sex with him, and he pressured me. That is NOT consent!”

Zeus opened his mouth to respond when a voice rang out behind her. “Your Majesty, if I may?”

Persephone turned and Athena was approaching the dais. Her air was calm, exuding serenity. She walked with a surety of wisdom, and Persephone wondered that a face could hold such certainty. Her father shrugged and waved his hand. “Go ahead.”

Though she was his daughter, she addressed him formally. “Thank you, your Majesty.” She inclined her head. “The Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood was formed to protect women against men. To protect them from rape, from abuse, from unwanted marriages.” Zeus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “As you know, to attack a member of our organization results in a punishment far worse than even Prometheus. An eternity of pain and suffering. 

“I understand that Persephone is merely a candidate of the Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood, and thus does not have the ultimate protection of our organization. Nevertheless, we have failed to protect her, and we will be eternally sorry.” She looked to Persephone, pain shining from her silver skin.

“Be that as it may, I address the court today to talk about consent. Our organization works to educate all beings, and protect all women regardless of their status. Thus, we have created rules and regulations, definitions and educational resources, surrounding consent. Rules which you, your majesty, signed off on about roughly 70 years ago.”

Zeus looked confused. “I don’t recall anything of this sort,” he responded.

Athena smiled slightly. “I’m not sure how thoroughly you read it. I asked you to sign it at a family gathering and you did, barely looking up from your wine as you did so. With all due respect,” she added, bowing her head, and Zeus looked annoyed. “I can assure you that these documents do indeed exist, and I have brought copies with me to prove it.”

Zeus’ expression soured, accepting his daughter’s words. “Very well,” he gritted through his teeth. “Please go on.” 

Athena nodded and then spoke in a loud and clear voice. “What the document lays out in no uncertain terms is that consent is voracious. It is clear, it is enthusiastic. A girl woken from sleep and pressured to have sex with someone is not capable of giving consent. Persephone said okay, but coerced consent is not consent.”

Zeus looked deeply uncomfortable. “That’s...complicated…” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

“No,” Athena responded calmly. “It is really quite simple. And, more importantly, it is the law.”

His lips parted in surprise, and he seemed to turn inward, deeply pensive and introspective for a few moments, like his entire world was crumbling in. Was this a... _ new  _ concept for him? Persephone wondered, before realizing she shouldn’t be surprised. Based on everything she knew about Zeus, she doubted the idea of clear and enthusiastic consent ever interrupted his desires.

“Um, okay.” Zeus cleared his throat, looking rattled. “There is the law, and also Persephone’s witnesses corroborating her story.” Apollo was watching him carefully, realizing he was losing him.

With panic in his eyes, he interjected. “Your Majesty! You know as well as I: visions cannot be trusted. Are Hera’s visions correct 100% of the time?”

“Well…” Zeus’ eyes flicked apologetically to Hera, “no.”

“Exactly!” Apollo cried. “Her visions can’t be proven beyond a reasonable doubt! And Eros? Eros  _ hates  _ me! He would just love to bring me down. We can’t rule out the possibility that he is completely biased and twisting the consensual sex he saw with rape he thinks I’m capable of!

“Plus,” he paused theatrically, “and believe me, I really hadn’t wanted to bring this up but...Persephone stole my lyre.”

“This matter was already settled,” Persephone shouted, looking from Apollo to Zeus.

“She is right, Apollo,” Zeus agreed. “I fail to see how that is relevant to this case.”

Persephone could feel heat, and realized that Apollo’s face was cracking and smoke was pouring out, warming the room with the power of a sun god. He was losing control. She risked a glance at the crowd - they were gasping and whispering amongst themselves. The reporters were furiously writing down everything happening before them. She turned to look towards her mother, but the room had suddenly filled with a brilliant and painful brightness. She squinted her eyes against it, sweating from the now oppressive heat. 

Zeus’ sceptre hit the floor three times, shaking the room as though an earthquake erupted from his staff. Persephone grabbed onto her podium to hold herself upright. 

“Stop this at once,” Zeus’ voice boomed. Lightning flashed across the sky, and rain fell heavy over Apollo, drenching him, snapping him out of his primordial form, leaving him panting. Steam was hissing from him, and he looked  _ livid _ . 

He pushed the sopping wet hair back from his face and shrieked, “It is relevant because she is a liar and a thief!” The amphitheater rang aloud with his accusations. They reverberated with his fury, and the whispers of the courtroom fell silent as he continued. “You can’t trust a word she says because she is  _ nobody _ . She has done  _ nothing,  _ she has no worshippers, no temples, no gifts. Her words are irrelevant, just like she is! I am the  _ God of the Sun!  _ My temple in Delphi is the center of the  _ universe _ to my worshippers, who are many and varied. I heal the sick, I sing to the masses. This - this - this  _ girl  _ makes  _ flowers _ and that is  _ it _ . This entire trial is a  _ farce _ .” His rage echoed off the marble floors, growing louder with his frenzied madness. 

_ “Who cares  _ what some little B-grade goddess from the Mortal Realm has to say about  _ anything?  _ The only thing she said that matters here is the word ‘okay.’ Because  _ she said okay _ . I don’t care what the prudes of eternal virginity say in their little rulebook. She’s not a member. I don’t care about the unreliable visions of two gods who don’t even like me. It proves  _ nothing _ . If she feels like she was raped, then that is her own damn fault. She never should have flounced around in her tiny dresses, she never should have flirted with me, she never should have said okay. But she did. She regrets it? Fine. But I am not at fault.”

Apollo looked deranged and Persephone laughed bitterly, right in his face. “Ha! Fault indeed.” She sneered at him. “Yes, I stole the lyre.” She looked from Apollo to Zeus, then turned to face the audience. Her eyes immediately found her mother, who looked fiercely proud, and nodded once, encouraging her to go on. Directly in front of her were Hades and Hecate, and they nodded as well. 

The words began to pour passionately from Persephone, a contrast to her carefully controlled statement that she had painstakingly written and read aloud over and over before the trial. Here, now, were words she hadn't planned. They came from somewhere deep inside her; from a broken heart still beating, still pounding against her chest, loudly demanding that her pain mattered. She could feel it, she could hear it, and she would make sure that everyone else heard it, too.

“ _ Yes _ , I stole the lyre,” she repeated, speaking with conviction directly to the spectators in the amphitheater. “I did, I took it! Why? Because I was angry. Because Apollo took something from  _ me _ , and I wanted him to feel a loss like I felt. I’m not perfect.” She shrugged. “I took his lyre. But that doesn’t mean he should get away with this. I shouldn’t have to prove that I’m a perfect person who has never made a mistake in her entire life to show that I’m worthy of not being assaulted! 

“So who is at fault?” She pointed towards Demeter. “My mother thinks it’s her fault for letting me come to Olympus.” She gestured to Hestia, flanked by Artemis and Athena. “The Goddesses of Eternal Maidenhood think it’s their fault for not protecting me.” She turned fully towards the reporters. “The media says it’s my fault - did I regret consensual sex, why would I steal his lyre, did he reject me, do I want fame, money? 

“Apollo wants you all to believe that there is no fault here, or if there is, it’s my fault for saying okay. And believe me, I have blamed myself. Sleepless nights where my thoughts are so loud it's like they're screaming that it’s my fault for putting myself in that position. It’s my fault for not knowing how to act. But none of that is true. You know whose fault it is? You know why this happened?

“It happened because Apollo chose to do it. The only person at fault is Apollo. It doesn’t matter what I was wearing, or what I said before it happened, or what I did after. It didn’t happen because my mother let me come to Olympus. It didn’t happen because TGOEM didn’t protect me. It happened because  _ Apollo chose to do it _ . That’s the only reason it happened. He is the  _ only  _ one at fault.”

The amphitheater rang with silence. Mouths agape, some people were crying, some were nodding, some looked pensive. She did it. She stood in front of the King of Gods and the entire Pantheon and told them all of Apollo’s crimes. She made them listen and, she was sure, she made some of them believe. Mere weeks ago it had seemed daunting and impossible. But she had clearly underestimated her power, and for one moment - the smallest fraction a moment - she felt inexplicably like a queen. 

And then the moment passed and Persephone inhaled deeply, looking directly into Hades’ eyes. She choked back a sob - no one would see her cry. As though they were one, Hades stood and reached for Persephone at the exact moment that she threw herself into his arms. He lifted her off the ground, holding her tightly, whispering fiercely in her ear, “You did it, Kore. You did it.” 

Persephone squeezed back with all her might, her face buried in his neck, a crown of flowers thick on her head, as she whispered over and over and over again - in relief, in triumph - “I did it, I did it, I did it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments will be the only thing dragging me across the finish line into the new year lol. In all seriousness, I'd really love to hear what you think about this chapter.


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